LAWRENCE  J.  GUTTER 

Collection  of  Chicogoono 

THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   ILLINOIS 
AT  CHICAGO 

The  University  Library 


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MERRICK    RICHARDSON    AT    THE    AGE    OP    SEVENTY-FIVE. 


LOOKING   BACK 

AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


By 
Merrick  Abner  Richardson 

AUTHOR     OF 

^JIM    HALL   AND   THE    RICHARDSONS"j   '''EIGHT    DATS    OUT",    "MINA    FAUST'' 

"ROSE     LIND",    "PERSONALITY     OF     THE     SOUL",     "CHICAGO'S 

BLACK      SHEEP",      "TWILIGHT      REFLECTIONS," 


Privately  Printed 
chicago:  mcmxvii 


Copyright  igiy 
'   By 
Merrick  Abner  Richardson 


PREFACE 

My  spare  time,  only,  is  occupied  in  literary  efforts.  I 
never  allow  them  to  interfere  with  either  my  business  or 
social  life. 

In  composing,  in  a  mysterious  way,  I  comprehend  the 
companionship  of  my  imaginary  friends  as  vividly  as  I 
do  the  material  associates  of  life.  To  me  imagination  is 
the  counterpart  or  result  of  inspiration,  while  inspiration 
is  light  thrown  upon  the  unrevealed.  The  image  may  be 
the  result  of  known  or  unknown  cause,  but  the  mystery 
does  not  blot  out  the  actual  existence  of  the  image.  The 
material  image  we  call  sight,  the  retained  memory,  and 
the  unknown  revelation,  but  all  are  comprehensive  im- 
ages. 

I  see  a  bird,  its  form  created  a  picture  on  my  eye,  the 
image  of  which  mysteriously  remained  after  the  object 
had  disappeared.  Now  what  or  who  cognizes  the  primitive 
object,  the  formed  picture  or  the  retained  image? 

The  materialist  assumes  he  has  solved  the  mystery 
when  he  says;  The  appearance  of  the  object  formed  an 
impression  on  your  brain ;  omitting  the  important  part 
of  who  comprehends  the  impression. 

These  material  and  spiritual  views  are  not  the  two 
extremes,  there  is  no  midway,  one  is  right  and  the  other 
is  wrong.  Either  man  is  a  spiritual,  responsible  being  or 
he  is  just  temporary  mud. 

Therefore  imagination,  to  me  is  incomprehensible 
realization,  while  materialism  is  the  symbol  of  passing 


II  PREFACE 

events.  This  explains  how  my  imaginary  friends  become 
so  dear  to  me. 

The  ideas  presented  in  my  story  of  Mary  Magdalene 
I  gained  through  descriptions  conveyed  to  me  by  Jona 
while  traveling  across  the  Syrian  desert.  He  always  be- 
gan in  the  middle  of  his  story  and  worked  out  both  ways, 
which  made  it  difficult  to  take  notes,  besides  at  the  best  it 
was  but  a  legend,  dim  and  indistinct. 

In  this  work  I  have  carefully  avoided  Oriental  style, 
language  or  customs  for  two  reasons :  First,  there  is  not 
an  Oriental  scholar  now,  who  could  do  them  justice, 
Second,  one  is  perfectly  safe  in  bringing  any  people  of 
any  age  right  down  to  our  times.  For,  the  culture  of 
one  tribe  or  race  does  not  influence  incoming  souls  for 
the  next  generation.  The  human  family  enter  life  on 
about  the  same  plane.  A  child  from  the  low  tribes  of  the 
jungles  or  from  the  desert  wild,  if  brought  up  by  a  Chi- 
cago mother,  might  becon.e  as  great  as  one  of  the  royal 
family.  The  feelings,  aspirations,  sorrows  and  love  of 
Mary  Magdalene  and  Peter  were  similar  to  what  ours 
would  have  been  under  the  same  conditions.  Therefore 
I  bring  the  story  of  Magdalene  right  down  to  yesterday, 

I  first  constructed  the  story  of  Magdalene  while  in 
Jerusalem,  then  I  revised  it  in  Egypt,  and  have  been  re- 
vising it  at  intervals  ever  since.  From  Jona's  continued 
reiteration  regarding  her  prepossessing  gifts,  spiritual 
and  unwavering  qualities,  especially  her  firmness  before 
Caiaphas,  I  formed  her  personality  in  my  mind  and  asso- 
ciated her  with  bright  women  of  today,  then  I  let  Mag- 
dalene talk  for  herself. 

To  me  she  was  no  exception  from  the  women  I  asso- 
ciated with  in  Chicago.  There  are  not  wanting  women 
in  Oak  Park  who  under  the  same  circumstances  would 


PREFACE  III 

have  followed  Jesus  to  Jerusalem,  disdained  to  deny  him 
and  would  have  pleaded  before  the  sanhedrim  at  the 
dead  of  night  to  have  saved  their  associate  from  the 
misguided   servants   of  the   devil. 

The  reminiscenses  of  the  pioneer  Richardsons,  Jim 
and  Winnie,  Sunshine  days  around  Wabbaquassett,  John 
Brown,  roving  escapades  of  the  Richardson  Brothers, 
my  athletic  exploits,  my  travels  and  other  scenes  of  my 
life  are  primitive  truths  copied  from  memory  and  set 
forth  in  my  original  form  of  expresson. 

My  attack  on  materialists  or  infidelic  instructors 
stands  on  its  own  feet  and  opposes  a  tendency  that  will 
create  degeneracy  if  continued. 


TABLE  OF   CONTENTS 

Page 

My  Ancestors   9 

WOBURN    10 

Traditions   12 

Records    15 

Old  Homestead   17 

Jim  Hall  19 

Love  Spats 20 

Jim's  Story  31 

The  Arrest  35 

The  AIartyrs   Zl 

The   Escape    38 

Stubbs'  Store  40 

Susan   Beaver 45 

Revenge    49 

Alone   in    the   Wilderness 51 

Hunting   for    Baby 54 

Muldoon  57 

Our  Wabbaquassett  Mountain  Home 61 

WooDCHucK  IN  the  Wall 64 

Sunday  Morning 69 

Husking  Bee    76 

Prayer  Meeting  at   Uncle   Sam's 78 

Golden   Days    81 

The  Wild  Sexton  Steer 83 

School  Days    87 

Country  Boys  in   Town 89 

As  a  Yankee  Tin   Peddler 94 

The  Thompson  Family 97 

John    Brov^n    99 

The   Dead  Appear 106 

Vida's  Daring  Exploit 108 

Owen    Brown's    Story 110 

After  the  Mist  Had  Cleared  Away 115 

Yankee  Horsemen  Go  West 117 

My  Relation    121 

Horse  Jockies  123 

Landed  in   Chicago 126 

Dr.  Thomas    128 

Early  Chicago  131 

HcRSE  Racing  in  Chicago 134 


VI  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Page 

Hopeful    and    Rarus 137 

Chicago    Piety    141 

Public  Conveyance   143 

My   Athletic    Exploits 146 

My  First  Hundred  Mile  Run 148 

Arthur's  and  Walton's   Long  Run 151 

The  First  Century  Race 157 

Dead  Glacier   160 

Miraculous  Escape  From  a  Bear 168 

My    Education    173 

Hawaiian  Islands  176 

South  Sea  Islands  and  Australia 180 

New  Guinea  183 

Cochin  China  190 

Mesopotamia    192 

Rud  Hurner 193 

Off  for  Babylon 198 

On  the  Euphrates 200 

On  the  Shat-el-chebar 201 

KooFA,  Arabia  ' 203 

The  Sheik  of  Koofa 205 

Wild,  Yet  Beautiful 209 

Nazzip  211 

The  Man  I  Had  Seen  Before 212 

Real  Bedouins  After  Us 214 

Suspicion  Aroused  217 

The  Rechabites 221 

Sleeping  Beauty  of  the  Desert 225 

The  Abandoned  Castle 227 

Mary  Magdalene   229 

DiNA  of  Endor 231 

The  Home  of  Magdalene 235 

John  and  Magdalene 237 

Ruth   240 

Darkness  Over  Galilee 242 

Surprise  for  the  Pharisees 248 

Council  of  the  Disciples 251 

Turn  of  the  Tide 253 

Magdalene's  Heroic  Plea 255 

Jesus  Speaks   261 

The   Exodus    262 

Waiting  By  the  Jordan 265 

In  Council  at  Jericho 267 

Arrival  at  Jerusalem 270 

Adultery    272 

Magdalene  Pleading  With  Jesus 278 

At  the  Home  of  Mai y  and  Martha 280 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  VII 

Page 

A  Naughty  Maid 282 

Lazarus  Restored   285 

Conspiracy  to   Murder  Jesus 287 

The  Mob  Fall  Upon  Jesus 292 

Magdalene    Before    Caiaphas 295 

Jesus  Before  Pilate 300 

The  Crucifixion  302 

Alone  on   Olivet 304 

Magdalene  Herself  Again 307 

Ruth  Comes  to  Meet  Magdalene 311 

Joseph's  Last  Interview 312 

Magdalene's  Last  Night  With  John 315 

Last  Good-B ye 321 

The  Prickett  Home 324 

Ourselves   326 

William  James,  of  Harvard 328 

Gladstone    335 

Evening  of  My  Life  Day 340 

Fifty-four  Miles'  Hike 342 

Back  Home  348 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 
Page 

Merrick  A.   Richardson 1 

Camp  of  the  Stafford  Pioneers 14 

Ancient  Cemetery  of  the  Stafford  Pioneers 16 

Winnie  Richardson    21 

Good  Morning,  Miss  Richardson 23 

Jim   in   the   Woods 52 

Our  Mountain  Home 61 

Chasing  for  a  Kiss 76 

Prayer  Meeting  at  Uncle  Sam's 80 

When  the  Folks  Were  Away 86 

Wabbaquassett  Girls  88 

Charming  Old  Wabbaquassett 90 

The  Aborn  Home 92 

Album  of  Sunny  Days 94 

Mary  Jane  Hoyt 96 

John   Brown,   1850 99 

ViDA  Thompson's  Midnight  Ride 109 

Near  John  Brown's  Adirondack  Home 115 

Yankee  Horsemen   117 

Horse  Sales   123 

Dr.  Thomas    128 

Early  Chicago  144 

G.  M.  Richardson  and  Family 1-16 

Saddle  Horse  Days 148 

The  Fox  River  Bicycle  Race 158 

Cycling  Run  to  South  Park 160 

North  Shore,  Loon  Lake,  Winona  Grove 162 

Arthur  Richardson  and  Friends 164 

Eastfr  Island  181 

New  Guinea  187 

Mesopotamia  Servants  193 

Desert  Life  Among  the  Arabs 209 

Ruins  of  Tadmor 227 

Mary  Magdalene   231 

Prickett  Home    324 

Fannie   Peterson    336 

Our  Oak  Park  Home 338 

My  Children    340 

Arthur  Richardson  and  His  Twins 342 

ViDA  344 

Barbara  Beaver  346 

Our  Fifty-four  Mile  Hike 349 


LOOKING    BACK 


MY  ANCESTORS 

Ezekiel  Richardson,  with  his  wife  Susanna,  joined 
the  Protestant  Church  in  the  Village  of  Charlestown, 
Mass. — now  Boston — in  1630.  The  following  year 
Thomas  and  Samuel  Richardson  joined  the  same  church ; 
the  records  of  the  will  of  Ezekiel  prove  them  to  have  been 
his  brothers. 

When  they  came  to  New  England,  or  where  from, 
is  unknown,  but  as  about  thirty  ships  of  British  emigrants 
came  into  Boston  Harbor  about  that  time,  it  is  safe  to 
assume  that  they  came  on  one  of  these  vessels,  but 
possibly  they  may  have  come  on  one  of  the  boats  which 
followed  the  Mayflower  nearly  ten  years  previous. 

It  appears  that  there  arose  dissensions  in  the  church 
and  those  good  Pilgrim  Fathers  and  Mothers  strove 
among  themselves  until  1634,  when  the  three  Richard- 
sons,  with  several  other  families,  withdrew  and  decided 
to  start  a  colony  and  a  church  of  their  own,  where  they 
could  worship  God  in  peace. 
9 


■     WOBURN 

Through  a  swamp  on  the  west,  called  Cat  Bird  Glen, 
ran  a  trout  brook  to  the  meadows  below.  Beyond  this 
woodland  glen  lay  an  upland  plain,  held  by  the  Indians 
as  a  camping  ground,  which  the  Richardsons  concluded 
they  might,  through  the  persuasion  of  powder  and 
bullets,  be  able  to  occupy  and  leave  the  parent  church 
at  Charlestown  to  mourn  their  departure. 

Accordingly  about  twenty  families,  including  the 
Richardsons,  took  possession  of  the  site,  dug  their  cellars, 
and  built  primitive  homes  together  with  a  log  church  and 
named  the  town  Woburn. 

Joy  mingled  with  pride  encouraged  the  men  to  subdue 
the  soil,  hunt,  snare  and  trap  the  game  and  fish,  while 
the  buxom  dames  hummed  their  spinning  wheels  as  they 
cooed  their  frolicsome  babies  beneath  the  shadows  of 
the  great  forest  monarchs  who  seemed  loath  to  give  way 
to  the  encroaching  steps  of  the  white  man. 

Contrary  to  the  general  rule,  that  rats  and  ministers 
advance  hand  in  hand  with  civilization,  in  this  case  the 
ministers  failed  to  appear  for  the  reason  that  the  home 
church  of  England  refused  to  recognize  the  seceders  as 
children  of  God  by  turning  down  their  supplication  for 
a  regular  ordained  preacher. 

Here  the  true  spirit  and  determination  which  seems 

to   tinge   the   veins    of   the    Richardsons   made   its   first 

appearance.     Ezekiel,  by  the  grace  of   God,  took  upon 

himself  the  leadership  in  all  the  praying  and  singing  of 

10 


LOOKING  BACK  11 

the  independent  church  for  about  ten  years.  He  offici- 
ated at  all  weddings  and  funerals,  besides  established  the 
whipping  post  for  those  who  did  not  appear  in  church, 
with  clean  shirts  on,  three  Sundays  each  month  to  hear 
him  preach  two  long  sermons,  when  it  is  said  he  often 
preached  so  loud  that  he  could  be  distinctly  heard  in  the 
Charlestown  church  two  miles  away,  to  the  annoyance 
of  his  old-time  associates. 

After  Ezekiel's  thrifty  swarm  had  become  greater 
than  the  parent  hive  at  Charlestown  and  the  hand  of 
time  began  pressing  heavily  upon  his  shoulders,  a  regu- 
larly ordained  preacher  was  sent  in,  which  the  parishion- 
ers did  not  like  as  well  as  they  did  Ezekiel,  for  he  could 
not  clothe  and  feed  himself  as  Ezekiel  had  done,  but  he 
stayed  until  he  died,  and  here  is  a  sample  of  primitive 
piety  in  our  grandfather's  days : 

"The  Reverend  Mr.  Carter  of  the  Woburn  Episcopal 
Church  died,  and  being  a  good  man,  our  forefathers 
decided  to  turn  out  in  mass,  give  him  a  Christian  burial 
and  charge  the  expenses  to  the  town.  Of  the  itemized 
bill — coffin,  shroud,  grave-digging,  and  stimulants, — the 
latter,  the  liquor  bill,  exceeded  all  the  other  expenses." 

See  Woburn  Town  Records,  Volume  3,  page  68. 

Thus  while  we  find  traces  of  weakness  in  our  ancest- 
ors, a  principle  seems  to  have  been  involved  which  made 
New  England  a  hot-bed  for  vags  and  tramps.  No 
wonder  we  sigh  for  the  good  old  days  when  respectable 
citizens  did  not  have  to  lock  their  doors  on  Sunday,  for 
all  the  thieves  were  in  church. 


TRADITIONS 

Through  the  first  appearance  of  the  Richardsons  in 
Charlestown  we  have  an  unbroken  hne  of  nine  genera- 
tions through  Ezekiel  of  Woburn  1630  to  Marvin  of 
Chicago  1917. 

Ezekiel  of  Woburn. 

Theopohs  of  Woburn. 

John  of  Stafford  Street. 

Uriah  of  Stafford  Street. 

John  of  of  Devil's  Hop  Yard. 

W^arren  of  Wabbaquassett  Lake. 

Merrick  of  Chicago. 

Arthur  of  Chicago. 

Marvin  of  Chicago. 
Of  course,  my  brothers  and  cousins  perpetuate  this 
lame,  the  same  as  I  do.     Collins  and  Gordon,  my  broth- 
ers, with  Orino,  the  son  of  my  Uncle  Orson,  alone  have 
raised  about  twenty  boys. 

The  living  male  descendants  of  Ezekiel,  Samuel  and 
Thomas,  who  carry  our  name,  must  now  be  more  than 
one  hundred  thousand  Richardsons,  and  I  presume  few 
of  them  trace  back  their  rehition  more  than  three 
generations,  but  they  could  if  they  would. 

MY  grandmother's   STORY 

My  grandmother,  Judith  Burroughs  Richardson,  who 
died  in  1859,  age  94,  seemed  in  the  evening  of  her  life- 
12 


LOOKING  BACK  13 

day  to  think,  dream  and  commune  with  her  ancestors  and 
friends,  who  long  since  entered  Paradise,  and  now 
seemed  to  be  throwing  back  kisses  to  loved  ones  ap- 
proaching that  land  of  delight. 

From  her  experience  and  traditional  reminiscences 
I  here  give  a  condensed  sketch  of  her  apparent  and  vivid 
memories : 

James  Burroughs,  her  grandfather,  was  the  son  of  the 
minister,  George  Burroughs,  her  great-grandfather,  who 
was  hanged  at  Salem,  Mass.,  August  19,  1692,  for  being 
in  league  with  the  devil. 

James  was  arrested  soon  after,  but  escaped  from 
Salem  jail  and,  under  the  name  of  Jim  Hall,  lived  in 
Connecticut  for  several  years.  Later,  under  his  right 
name,  he  married  Winnie  Richardson,  a  Stafford  Street 
girl,  and  they  settled  near  Brattleborough,  Vermont, 
where  grandmother's  father,  Amos  Burroughs,  was  born. 

After  James  died,  her  grandmother  Winnie  came  to 
\\'est  Stafford  to  live  with  them.  She  died  before  grand- 
ma was  born  and  was  buried  in  the  family  lot  near  their 
house.  Her  gravestone  was  still  standing  when  mv 
father  was  old  enough  to  go  with  his  grandfather  Amos 
Burroughs  and  see  them. 

The  homestead  where  Winnie  died  and  grandmother 
was  born  and  married  can  be  found  by  following  the 
south  road  out  of  West  Stafford  and  turning  the  first 
road  to  the  right,  across  the  brook  and  up  the  hill  to  the 
first  farm  scene. 

Winnie's  father,  Theopolis,  son  of  Ezekiel,  and  sev- 
eral other  men  with  their  families,  came  West  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  and  took  possession,  or  squat,  on  the 
northern  rise  of  a  highland  plain,  where  a  grand  view  of 


14  LOOKING  BACK 

the  far-away  Western  mountains  can  be  seen.  They 
called  their  camp  Stafford. 

John,  Winnie's  brother,  who  was  conducting  an 
Indian  trading  post  at  Medford  came  on  later,  with 
his  two  brothers,  Gershom  and  Paul,  and  opened  up  the 
famous  Stafford  Street,  which  was  laid  out  twenty  rods 
wide  and  about  two  miles  long,  the  southern  terminus 
being  about  one  mile  northeast  of  Stafford  Springs. 

John  Richardson  took  up  the  first  farm  at  the  north 
entrance  on  the  west  side  and  Silas  Dean  took  the  first 
on  the  left,  or  east,  side  from  the  old  campus  on  the  hill 
at  the  north  end  of  the  street. 

All  between  the  walls,  which  was  later  changed  to 
sixteen  rods,  was  commons.  The  church  in  the  center 
was  used  for  spiritual  devotion,  recorder  office  and  court 
of  justice. 


RECORDS 

The  records  of  those  New  England  pioneers  are  dim, 
as  the  Puritans  considered  church  members  only,  as 
persons. 

Boston  records  (Woburn),  as  we  have  seen,  seem  to 
extol  Ezekiel. 

Theopolis  according  to  his  will,  must  have  been  a 
financial  success. 

The  Stafford  Street  records,  I  was  informed  by  Mrs. 
Earned,  who  now  lives  on  the  old  homestead,  were  kept 
in  their  family  from  the  beginning  until  lately,  when 
they  became  such  a  source  of  annoyance  from  ancestor 
seekers,  like  myself,  that  they  sent  them  to  the  recorder's 
office  at  Stafford  Springs. 

At  the  recorder's  office  at  Stafford  Springs  I  found 
that  John  Richardson  from  Medford  came  to  Stafford 
Street  in  1726,  this,  though  meager,  acts  as  the  official 
connecting  link  between  Woburn  and  Stafford. 

Another  scrap  I  found  was  that  Paul  Richardson  had 
taken  land  adjoining  his  brother,  John  Richardson,  this 
identifies  both  John  and  Paul. 

Regarding  Gershom,  the  other  one  of  the  three  broth- 
ers, I  found  this : 

"Gershom  Richardson,  son  of  Gershom  and  Abigail, 
born  in  1761." 

This  would  make  the  elder  Gershom  Richardson  con- 
temporary with  John  and  Paul. 
15 


16  LOOKING   BACK 

E.  Y.  Fisk,  an  early  settler,  told  me  that  a  part  of 
the  early  church  records  have  been  burned. 

In  the  old  graveyard  just  south  of  the  brook  which 
crosses  Stafford  Street  still  remains  the  headstone  of  Lot 
Dean,  who  died  in  1818. 

Lot  would  be  of  the  next  generation  from  Silas  Dean, 
who  took  the  farm  opposite  John  Richardson. 

Near  the  grave  of  Lot  are  the  headstones  of  Uriah 
Richardson  and  his  wife  Miriam,  who  died  October  18, 
1785,  at  the  age  of  75.  Uriah  must  have  been  all  right, 
for  Miriam,  who  died  twenty  years  later,  had  had  in- 
scribed on  his  headstone : 

"The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed." 

Grandmother  remembered  Uriah,  the  son  of  John  and 
the  father  of  John,  her  husband. 

Now  while  the  traditions,  records  and  gravestones 
may  prove  each  in  themselves  to  be  weak  evidence,  to- 
gether they  form  an  unbroken  chain  from  Ezekiel  down 
to  our  times. 


OLD  HOMESTEAD 

With  my  interesting  nieces,  Joe  and  Lina  Newell,  one 
bright  summer  day,  I  visited  the  ancient  homes  of  the 
Stafford  Street,  Conn.,  Richardsons. 

E.  Y.  Fisk  and  his  son  now  possess  the  historical 
property.  The  son  from  Springfield,  who  was  haying 
there  at  the  time,  invited  us  and  all  the  other  Richard- 
son tribe  to  come  and  camp  on  the  homestead  grounds, 
sit  on  the  old  w^alls,  gaze  over  the  western  mountains  and 
even  coquet  with  the  star  Venus  evenings,  all  of  which 
look  now  the  same  as  when  our  ancestors  saw  them  200 
years  ago. 

That  day,  July  19,  1916,  with  those  girls,  viewing  the 
scenes  and  taking  pictures  of  the  surroundings,  im- 
printed on  my  mind  an  oasis  of  beauty  ever  awaiting  recall 
as  I  journey  over  the  trackless  sands  of  time. 

The  present  seemed  to  pass  away  as  the  past  unfolded 
its  charms  while  we  were  reminded  of  the  long  ago. 

Sacredly  we  listened  to  the  voice  of  Mother  Mary 
calling  Winnie  from  the  kitchen  door,  saw  the  men  in 
homespun  shirts  and  trousers  coming  up  from  the 
meadow  below.  Heard  the  careless  boy  whistling  while 
unyoking  the  lazy  oxen.  Saw  old  dog  Towser  sleeping 
in  the  shade.  And  in  the  pasture  far  away  we  seemed 
to  hear  the  faint  tinkling  of  the  cow  bell  on  the  brindle 
steer. 

Day  dreams,  says  one. 

Imagination,  says  another. 
17 


18  LOOKING  BACK 

May  it  not  be  that  when  death  removes  this  earthly 
garment,  we  will  again  realize  that  the  past,  present,  and 
future  are  one. 

If  the  image  of  the  face  before  me  now  is  the  reten- 
tion of  the  face  I  saw  yesterday,  may  not  all  fiction,  in- 
vention and  imagination  be  retention  of  occurences  we 
can  only  recall  in  parts  ? 

The  power  of  recall  is  mysterious.  If  we  dream  of 
the  dead  as  living  when  we  know  that  they  are  dead,  but 
we  cannot  recall  that  which  we  know,  may  we  not  know 
of  pre-existence  but  lack  the  power  to  recall? 

Thus  Lina,  Joe  and  myself  spent  a  happy  summer  day 
on  the  New  England  hills,  which  we  will  pleasantly  re- 
call when  the  cold  winds  of  winter  rattle  the  doors  and 
windows  and  we  are  hugging  the  radiators. 


JIM  HALL 

During  the  days  of  the  New  England  pioneers  our 
early  church  had  more  trouble  in  evolutionizing  Chris- 
tianity from  bigotry  than  in  driving  the  red  man  from  his 
native  lair.  Therefore,  as  the  records  show  my  ancestors 
to  have  been  entangled  in  this  muss,  I  have  arranged,, 
in  this  family  record,  and  the  story  of  my  life,  the  story 
of  Winnie  and  Jim. 

One  warm  May  evening,  in  1693,  a  stranger,  who  said 
his  name  was  James  Hall,  appeared  at  the  door  of  Deacon 
Felker's  home  in  Stafford,  Conn.,  and  applied  for  a  job. 
His  face  betokened  firmness,  his  speech  was  clear  and 
distinct,  while  a  tinge  of  sadness  seemed  to  prevade  his 
distant  smile. 

He  claimed  to  be  a  good  chopper  and,  as  the  deacon 
was  now  clearing  up  his  future  home  in  the  New  England 
wilderness,  he  soon  bargained  with  Jim  for  all  the  season. 

Hall  soon  became  a  favorite  in  the  colony,  broke  all 
the  unruly  steers,  saddled  the  ugly  colts,  collared  Bill 
Jones,  the  terror  of  the  town,  and  thrashed  him  soundly ; 
but  did  not  attend  church  until  the  influence  of  Winnie 
Richardson  changed  hatred  to  forgiveness. 


19 


LOVE  SPATS 

For  some  weeks  the  Felkers  had  had  many  callers, 
who  sympathized  deeply  with  the  poor  broken-hearted 
mother  over  her  lost  Juda  among  the  Indians,  but  time, 
the  blessed  obliterator  of  all  earthly  troubles,  soon  brought 
forward  other  scenes  and  changes,  and  people  laughed, 
joked  and  enjoyed  themselves  at  Stafford  as  usual. 

W^innie  Richardson  and  her  father  were  over  to  see 
the  Felkers  almost  every  day  and  Mr.  Richardson  would 
hear  nothing  about  the  pay  for  the  colt  which  the  In- 
dians had  stolen  from  Jim  while  searching  for  Juda,  say- 
ing he  had  another  one  as  nice,  which,  if  Jim  would  come 
over  and  break,  so  Winnie  could  ride  it,  he  would  call  it 
square. 

One  evening  Winnie  came  over  and,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, fluttered  around  and  fussed  over  Jim,  bandaging 
up  his  sore  foot,  which  he  had  hurt  during  the  hunt  for 
Juda.  Then  she  made  tea  for  Mrs.  Felker  and  slicked 
up  the  room,  while  Jim  lay  back  in  the  chair  and  watched 
all  her  movements. 

Jim  felt  almost  like  crying,  he  was  so  worn  out  and 
heart-broken  over  the  loss  of  little  Juda.  Everyone  knows 
how  sweet  home  and  friends  seem  under  such  circum- 
stances ;  but  here  was  Winnie,  who  had  won  his  heart, 
and  he  wanted  to  tell  her  so,  but  she  would  not  let  him. 

"Winnie,"  he  said,  in  as  a  careless  a  manner  as  he 
20 


WINNIE    RICHARDSON.    WAITING    ON    THE    EASTERN    BLUFFS    OF 
OLD   WABBAQUASSETT. 


LOOKING   BACK  21 

was  capable  of,  "you  do  not  know  how  much  that  new 
gown  becomes  you." 

"Thanks,  Jim,  I'm  glad  you  like  it ;  do  you  know  I 
have  worked  on  it  ever  since  you  went  away?  I  was  so 
worried  about  you  I  had  to  work  or  ride  old  Dan,  to  keep 
from  going  wild.  Several  times  I  rode  down  to  the 
Springs,  followed  the  trail  around  the  west  bend  way  up 
to  old  Wabbaquassett,  around  to  the  eastern  highlands 
from  where  I  gazed  across  the  pretty  waves,  hoping  to 
see  you  coming,  but  saw  only  Nipmunk  maidens  sporting 
in  their  canoes." 

"Then,  if  I  had  never  come  back,  Winnie,  I  suppose 
you  would  have  worked  on  that  gown  and  ridden  to 
Wabbaquassett  Lake  all  the  remainder  of  your  life." 

"I  do  not  know.    I  know  I  wanted  you  to  come  home." 

Jim  was  encouraged.  This  was  more  than  she  had 
ever  said  before,  so  he  ventured  to  say,  "Winnie,  come 
here  and  give  me  your  hand." 

She  came  forward,  and  placing  her  hand  in  his,  said, 
laughingly,  "Well,  Jim,  what?" 

"Now,  Winnie,  why  were  you  worried  for  fear  I 
would  not  come  home  and  what  did  you  want  me  to  come 
back  for?" 

"Why,  Jim,  are  you  so  simple  as  all  that?  You  know 
that  father  expects  you  to  break  his  colts  in  the  spring, 
besides  he  thinks  he  cannot  get  along  without  your  opin- 
ion on  cabbages  and  turnips,  then  why  would  it  not 
worry  me?  Now,  Jim,  I'm  going  home,  and  I  want  you 
to  limp  over  tomorrow  and  see  me,  and  stay  all  day,  and 
we  will  have  a  good  visit.  But,  really,  Jim,  you  must  not 
talk  serious  to  me;  you  must  give  up  that."  Both  were 
silent  a  moment  and  then  she  continued :  "There,  James 
Hall,  has  that  little  lecture  almost  killed  you?    I  see  you 


22  LOOKING   BACK 

have  the  dumps.  That  will  never  do.  Look  up  here, 
Mr.  Hall,  have  you  forgotten  that  ]\Iiss  Richardson  is 
present?" 

Jim  looked  up  and  endeavored  to  catch  her  eye,  but 
no  use.  When  she  saw  how  pitiful  he  looked  she  burst 
out  lavighing  and  walked  away  with  her  chin  way  up 
high,  then  came  back  with  a  smile,  bade  him  good-night, 
and  she  was  gone. 

Jim  was  in  trouble.  Mrs.  Felker  was  delirious  with 
grief.  Little  Juda,  the  sunshine  of  the  home,  was  gone, 
and  Winnie  had  told  him  plainly  he  must  abandon  all 
serious  thoughts.  He  lay  awake  way  into  the  night  and 
formed  his  plans  thus :  I  will  not  go  over  to  Richard- 
sons  in  the  morning,  nor  the  next  day  nor  the  next,  and 
perhaps  never.  I  will  take  my  axe  and  go  up  among 
the  old  hickory  trees  and  work  from  sun  to  sun  and  try 
to  banish  little  Juda  from  my  mind,  and  also  try  to  for- 
get what  a  fool  I  am ;  fool — fool — of  course  I  am,  toss- 
ing around  here  all  night  over  a  girl  that  does  not  care 
for  me.  The  idea  of  my  consulting  with  her  father  over 
a  cabbage  patch.  I  think  Jim  Hall  is  not  quite  dead 
gone  yet — no,  I  will  not  show  my  face  there  again  very 
soon,  of  course  not.  Now  I  will  turn  over  and  go  to 
sleep."  But  poor  Jim,  like  many  others,  would  like  to 
forget  his  Winnie,  but  could  not.  ^^'innie  had  won  his 
heart.     She  had  come  to  stay. 

Morning  came  and  as  the  sun  banished  the  dew  from 
the  grass,  so  daylight  had  upset  all  of  Jim's  plans  con- 
cerning the  hickory  logs.  He  did  not  want  to  see  Win- 
nie in  particular — no,  but  then  he  must  not  treat  Mr. 
Richardson  shabbily  because  Winnie  had  misused  him. 
"Oh,  I'll  go  over,  of  course  I  will,  and  visit  the  old  folks, 


GOOD    MOHiNINli,    MISS    HICHAHDSON  ! 


LOOKING  BACK  23 

and  if  I  see  her  I  will  pass  the  time  of  day  to  her — that 
is  all." 

He  found  the  old  gent  out  feeding  pigs  and  soon  they 
were  engaged  in  a  friendly  conversation.  When  they 
turned  into  the  house,  Aunt  Mary  came  briskly  forward 
to  greet  him  and  asked  many  questions  concerning  his 
long  hunt  for  Juda  among  the  Indians,  which  he  could 
have  answered  more  sensibly  had  he  not  been  expecting 
Winnie.  Of  course,  he  was  not  anxious  to  see  her,  but 
he  wondered  where  she  was. 

"Jim,"  said  Mr.  Richardson,  "you  will  find  plenty  of 
those  early  apples  down  in  the  orchard  if  you  care  for 
them."  So  Mr.  Hall  started  through  the  orchard  and 
came  spat  upon  Winnie  by  the  wild  rose  bush,  on  the 
orchard  wall. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Richardson,"  he  said,  as  he 
extended  his  hand  in  a  cold  business-like  manner. 

Winnie  paid  no  attention  to  his  good  morning,  but 
brushing  aside  his  extended  hand  she  began  fixing  a  white 
rose  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat  as  she  said  in  a  soft 
tone :  "Jim,  how  would  you  feel  if  you  were  a  girl  and 
had  gone  and  primed  yourself  all  up  nice  so  as  to  look 
sweet  as  possible,  waiting  for  your  fellow  to  come  and 
say,  'Hello,  Winnie,  how  sweet  you  look  this  morning!' 
but  instead  to  see  him  come  stalking  through  the  trees  as 
though  he  was  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed,  saying  'good 
morning.  Miss  Richardson.'  Now,  own  up,  Jim,  that 
you  deliberately  planned  that  scheme  to  frighten  me." 

"\\' ell,  but  you  see,  my  dear." 

"Yes,  Jim,  I  see.  I  know  all  about  it.  You  have  been 
nerving  yourself  up  to  show  that  you  did  not  care  for  me. 
You  did  it  nicely.  I  thought  you  could  not  hold  out  more 
than  a  minute,  but  I  think  you  did  about  two.     And 


24  LOOKING  BACK 

now  you're  smiling,  calling  me  dear,  and  will  not  let  go 
of  my  hand.  You  did  not  sleep  well  last  night,  did 
you?" 

"No,  I  did  not." 

"Was  Mrs.  Felker  nervous?" 

"Yes,  she  did  not  sleep  a  wink  before  two  o'clock." 

"And  how  about  Frank?" 

"Oh,  he  always  sleeps  like  a  log." 

"Say,  Jim,  why  do  you  take  such  an  interest  in  Frank; 
where  did  the  Felkers  get  him?" 

"Boston,  or  somewhere  East." 

"What  is  his  name?" 

"Burroughs,  they  say." 

"Burroughs — Burroughs — he  did  not  come  from  Sa- 
lem, did  he  ?" 

\A'innie,  noticing  Jim's  emotion,  turned  back  to  the 
original  theme  and  continued :  "And  I  suppose  Juda  was 
on  your  mind?" 

"Yes,  she  was,  and  still  I  know  it  is  wrong  to  worry 
about  her,  but  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  that  little  angel. 
You  know,  I  have  lots  of  love  letters  she  wrote  me? 
She  used  to  bring  them  over  into  the  lot  herself  and  then 
turn  her  back  while  I  read  them.  She  said  she  could  not 
bear  to  see  a  man  read  a  love  letter.  She  was  like  her 
mother,  artful  as  she  could  be.  She  used  to  enjoy  our 
love  spats,  as  she  called  them ;  she  would  pretend  to  get 
mad  and  go  pouting  around  all  day  and  expect  me  to 
come  and  make  up  with  her,  and  sometimes  it  required 
lots  of  coaxing,  but,  of  course,  she  always  gave  in  at  last. 
You  see,  now  she  is  gone,  I  cannot  help  thinking  about 
those  things,  and  that  is  not  all  the  trouble  with  me, 
either." 

"That  is  enough,  Jim.     You  need  not  tell  your  other 


LOOKING   BACK  25 

troubles.  Come  along  to  the  grove,  I  want  to  talk  with 
you." 

Following  the  cart  path  they  entered  the  woods,  when 
she  turned  quickly  and  said :  "Jini,  I  have  something  on 
my  mind  which  I  wish  to  unload,  and  you  will  not  think 
me  silly  even  if  I  am  wrong?" 

"No,  no,"  he  replied  with  a  searching  look.  "I  like 
to  have  you  confide  in  me." 

"Do  you  know,  Jim,  that  I  think  there  is  a  possible 
chance  yet  to  find  Juda  alive." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  as  he  exclaimed,  "Tell  me,  Win- 
nie, tell  me  all  you  know !" 

"Do  not  get  excited;  I  have  no  proof.  Tell,  me.  Jim, 
all  about  the  first  day  you  were  out  hunting  for  Juda, 
who  you  saw  and  what  they  said?" 

After  he  had  gone  through  with  the  particulars  she 
asked :  "How  many  Indians  camped  at  W^abbaquassett 
Lake  that  first  night?" 

"Only  four,  besides  those  regular  lake  dwellers." 

"Did  you  see  them  all  at  one  time?" 

"Yes,  we  saw  the  four  and  talked  with  them.  They 
came  from  the  West." 

"Were  they  Mohawks  ?" 

"No,  they  were  Narragansetts." 

"\\'ell,  if  Juda  had  been  with  the  camp  when  you 
and  Frank  came  upon  them,  could  thev  have  concealed 
her?" 

"Certainly,  but  I  do  not  think  she  was  there." 

"I  do  not  think,  Jim,  she  was  killed  by  the  wolves," 
said  \\'innie,  as  she  frowned  thoughtfully  while  looking 
on  the  ground.     "If  she  is  dead  the  Indians  killed  her." 

"Did  not  you  and  all  the  neighbors,  after  we  had  gone, 
find  the  place  where  the  wolves  had  killed  her?" 


26  LOOKING  BACK 

"Oh,  yes,  Jim,  I  was  there,  but  those  Indians  are  so 
cunning.  You  see  they  broke  camp  about  noon  and  that 
must  have  been  about  the  time  she  would  have  arrived 
there.  Now,  if  she  arrived  at  the  camp  after  they  had 
gone,  she  could  have  come  back  home,  but  if  lost,  why 
did  she  not  hear  the  calls  for  her,  for  the  wolves  dis- 
turb no  one  until  after  dark." 

"Suppose  your  theory  is  true,  Winnie,  what  steps 
would  you  take  to  find  her?" 

"Will  you  do  what  I  want  you  to  do  about  it?" 
"Yes,  Winnie,  I  feel  like  Queen  Esther,  when  risking 
her  Hfe  for  her  people." 

"Queen  Esther?  Jim  Hall,  who  taught  you  the  Bible?" 
He  studied  a  moment  and  then  said :     "Go  on  about 
Juda,  please." 

Winnie  scrutinized  him  keenly,  then  turned  from  the 
painful  subject  and  continued  about  Juda.  "I  want  you 
to  wait  several  months  until  the  Indians  think  we  have 
given  her  up,  then  go  quietly  among  the  tribes ;  you  know 
you  talk  all  their  tongues,  and  if  you  find  her,  Jim,  I  will 
love  you  for  your  bravery,  and  if  you  do  not,  the  endeavor 
ought  to  count  some.  Now  I  suppose  you  want  to  go  in 
and  visit  with  papa  and  mamma." 
"Y-e-s." 

"What  makes  you  drag  out  that  'yes'  so  long?" 
"I  thought  you  might  like  to  take  a  walk  in  the  grove." 
"If  you  had  not  been  so  cross  to  me  this  morning." 
"Well— but,  I  really  did  think—" 
"What  has  changed  your  mind,  Mr.  Hall?" 
"Well,  Winnie." 

"Well,  Jim,  say,  do  you  really  want  to  make  up  ?  Oh, 
catch  me,  Jim,  my  heart — my  heart!" 


LOOKING    BACK  27 

Jim  sprang  and  saved  her  from  falling  into  the  brook, 
as  she  pushed  him  from  her  and  began  laughing. 

"Oh,  ^^'innie,  you  do  not  know  how  you  did  frighten 
me,  you  are  a  roguish  girl,  but  I  like  you  and  think  you 
a  perfect  pet." 

"Perfect  pet — get  out.  Did  you  know  John  Bragg 
was  over  to  see  me?" 

"John  Bragg?" 

"Yes,  John  Bragg." 

"I  thought  you  had  given  him  up?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  did  think  when  you  and  I  came  home  from 
church  on  the  black  colt,  it  would  give  him  a  shock,  but 
he  is  all  the  more  attentive.  Think  of  it,  all  the  fathers 
and  mothers  have  had  their  daughters  cooing  around 
him  for  the  last  three  years  and  he  does  not  bite,  but  is 
in  great  agony  over  me.  Now,  what  can  I  do?  I  will 
have  to  marry  him  to  get  rid  of  him,  won't  I  ?" 

"To  get  rid  of  him?" 

"Oh,  Jim,  but  his  father  is  rich.  You  see,  it  is  dig- 
nified to  have  such  a  beau.  He  came  over  last  night 
after  I  left  you  and  said  his  father  had  bought  of  Mr. 
Converse  a  beautiful  saddle  horse  and  he  wanted  me  to 
take  a  ride  on  it,  but  when  I  told  him  I  was  engaged  he 
looked  downcast.  He  proposed  to  bring  over  his  sister 
Lydia  and,  if  it  pleased  you,  we  would  all  go  up  to  the 
west  bend  fishing  together  and  have  a  fish  fry.  What 
do  you  thing  of  that?" 

"I  would  be  delighted  to  go." 

"Yes,  but  he  will  expect  to  escort  me  and  leave  you 
to  attend  to  Lydia." 

"Th-it  is  all  right ;  I  like  Lydia." 

"You  do?" 

"Of  course,  I  do." 


28  LOOKING    BACK 

"But,  Jim,  you  are  older  than  Lydia." 

"I  do  not  think  she  cares  for  that  by  what  she  said." 

"What  she  said  ?    When  was  all  this  talk  ?" 

"Oh,  not  long  ago." 

"Not  long  ago?  Look  around  here,  James  Hall!" 
At  this  he  smiled  and  she  said,  "There,  now,  you  were 
fooling  me — own  up  that  it  was  not  true." 

"It  may  not  be  exactly  true,  but  bordering  on  the 
truth." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  bordering  on  the  truth  ?" 

"I  actually  saw  her." 

"Did  you  talk  that  way  to  her?" 

"Oh,  no;  we  did  not  speak." 

"There,  Jim,  now  I  like  you  just  a  little  bit ;  sort  of 
sisterly  love,  you  know.    That  is  all.  Jim — do  you  hear?" 

"No,"  he  said,  drawing  her  to  him.  "I  did  not  catch 
that  last  sentence.    Come  a  little  nearer,  Winnie." 

"Never !  Never !  James  Hall,"  she  said,  withdrawing 
with  a  flushed  face.  "You  are  holding  a  secret  from  me 
and  unless  you  confide  all,  Winnie  Richardson  will  die 
an  old  maid." 

"Thank  God,"  he  replied,  with  irony,  "That  cuts  off 
John  Bragg." 

"John  is  already  cut  off.  I  love  the  tracks  you  make 
in  the  dust  more  than  I  do  him,  but  no  girl  should  allow 
herself  to  follow  a  love  trail  into  a  snare.  You  may  be 
all  right.  I  think  you  are,  but  do  not  advance  another 
shade  until  I  know  all." 

Jim  dried  her  falling  tears  as  caressingly  as  he  dared, 
but  the  mystery  still  remained. 

Winnie  turned  and  gazed  to  the  far  away  hills,  but 
she  did  not  see  them,  for  her  soul  was  silently  summoning 
courage  for  the  trying  ordeal.     Jim  could  but  see  in  her 


LOOKING    BACK  29 

the  model  of  pure  virtue  and  loveliness,  as  she  turned  to 
him,  saying: 

"Is  your  name  James  Hall  ?" 

"No." 

"Were  you  ever  married?" 

"Yes."  ' 

"Is  your  wife  alive?" 

"No." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"James  Burroughs." 

"Is  your  father  alive?" 

"No." 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"George  Burroughs." 

"Where  did  he  die?" 

"Salem." 

"When  ?" 

"August  19.  1692." 

"Was  he  that  George  Burroughs?"  Here  Winnie's 
voice  failed,  and  Jim  answered,  "He  was." 

Winnie  stepped  back  while  her  thin  lips  parted  and 
seemed  to  look  as  white  as  the  ivories  between  them. 

"Was  your  wife  that  beautiful  Fanny  Shepherd,  who 
died  with  a  broken  heart  at  Casco  Bay,  after  the  report 
of  your  death  ?" 

"She  was." 

Winnie  stood  a  moment  as  if  to  satisfy  herself  that 
the  world  was  real  and  she  was  not  dreaming,  then  com- 
ing softly  forward  she  sat  on  his  knee  and  putting  her 
arm  around  his  neck  began  kissing  him,  while  she  said : 
"Mother  is  to  have  hot  biscuits,  butter  and  honey  for 
supper,  and  we  must  go  now,  and  after  that  I  will  give 
her  a  hint  of  what  has  happened,  and  we  will  take  to  the 


30  LOOKING    BACK 

parlor  and  you  must  tell  me  the  story  of  your  life,  and 
you  may  talk  just  as  serious  as  you  please.  Now,  Jim, 
I  want  you  to  hug  and  kiss  me  for  keeps." 

Father  and  mother  were  puzzled  to  conjecture  what 
had  caused  the  turn  in  the  tide,  for  the  distance  between 
Winnie  and  Jim  had  suddenly  disappeared,  and  \\'innie 
began  bossing  him  around,  just  like  regular  married  folks. 

"Jim,"  said  Winnie,  as  they  entered  the  parlor.  "Your 
clothes  do  not  fit,  your  boots  are  too  big,  and  your  hair 
is  too  long.  Oh,  dear  me,  after  we  are  married  what  a 
time  I  will  have  fixing  you  up.    What  makes  you  smile?" 

"Who  has  said  anything  about  marrying,  Winnie?" 

"I  did." 

"When  is  all  this  to  take  place?" 

"Oh,  it  will  be  several  months  yet.  You  know,  papa 
and  mamma  will  want  me  to  look  nice  and  I  will  have 
to  make  all  my  new  clothes.    Now  begin  your  story." 

"Will  you  promise  not  to  cry,  Winnie?" 

"Really,  I  will  try.  But  think  of  it,  it  seems  to  me 
something  like  one  rising  from  the  dead ;  and  still,  be- 
lieve me,  dear,  something  of  this  kind  impressed  me  from 
the  day  you  arrived  in  Stafford,  nearly  eight  years  ago. 
If  I  should  tell  you  my  dreams  you  would  call  me  vision- 
ary, but  I  will  tell  that  some  other  time.  Now  begin  and 
I  will  be  good  except  when  I  want  to  pet  you." 


JIM'S    STORY 

I  was  born  in  Boston,  May  1,  1670.  My  father, 
George  Burroughs,  then  an  ordained  minister,  was  travel- 
ing on  a  circuit,  preaching  in  stores,  schoolhouses  or  any 
place  where  it  was  convenient,  as  most  preachers  did  at 
that  time.  When  I  was  four  years  old  we  moved  to 
Salem,  where  father  had  charge  of  the  Salem  Mission, 
and  when  I  was  twelve  years  of  age  my  mother  died. 

Father's  liberal  views  did  not  please  Samuel  Harris 
and  several  other  officials  of  the  church,  and  they  peti- 
tioned the  presiding  elder  that  he  be  removed. 

Soon  father  learned  that  a  settlement  at  Casco  Bay, 
Maine,  a  landing  on  the  coast  nearly  100  miles  north  of 
Salem,  had  no  preacher,  so  accordingly,  one  morning 
after  a  friend  had  given  us  our  lodging,  breakfast  and 
two  dollars  in  money,  we  started  on  foot  for  Casco  Bay. 
The  evening  before  leaving,  we  had  spent  several  hours 
fixing  up  mother's  grave,  and  as  we  passed  by  the  yard 
the  next  morning  we  went  in  and  knelt,  and  I  remember 
how  father  thanked  God  that  our  angel  mother  had  passed 
to  the  land  of  dreams,  "Where  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling  and  the  weary  art  at  rest." 

On  our  way  along  the  north  shore  road,  father 
preached  several  times,  for  which  the  people  lodged,  fed 
and  gave  us  some  money.  On  arriving  at  our  destination, 
father  announced  that  he  would  preach  next  morning, 
Sunay,  in  Gordon  Richardson's  barn.  Well  do  I  remem- 
31 


32  LOOKING    BACK 

ber  the  text,  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  ye  rest."  I  noticed  all  paid 
close  attention  and  some  shed  tears,  and  when  we  sang, 
all  joined  in  and  it  seems  to  me  I  have  never  heard  such 
voices  since.  It  was  a  bright,  clear  summer  day,  all  the 
little  settlement  was  quiet,  and  when  those  standing  out- 
side joined  in  the  chorus  the  peaceful  strains  seemed  to 
waft  my  soul  far  away  and  make  me  think  that  I  was 
with  my  mother. 

After  it  was  over  Lucius  Aborn,  when  shaking  hands, 
said,  "Your  talk  suits  me,  Mr.  Burroughs,  and  although 
I'm  not  a  church-going  man,  here  is  my  dollar,  and  I  want 
you  and  the  boy  to  come  right  up  to  my  house  and  stay 
six  or  eight  weeks,  and  we  will  all  pitch  in  and  find  you 
a  place  to  live  and  preach." 

CASCO    BAY 

Oh,  how  well  we  prospered  in  that  little  one-horse 
town,  where  there  was  little  money,  but  the  fields,  orchards 
and  gardens  brought  forth  their  fruit  abundantly,  while 
fish  and  game  were  plenty.  The  business  center  consisted 
of  one  large  grocery  and  notion  store,  a  sawmill,  grist- 
mill, fish  and  game  market,  and  several  large  storehouses. 
I  soon  found  employment  in  the  store  which  was  kept  by 
Obadiah  Stubbs,  where  I  worked  while  I  was  not  in 
school  as  long  as  I  lived  there. 

At  the  end  of  one  year,  father  had  ninety  members 
in  his  flock,  and  was  still  preaching  in  the  schoolhouse. 
Eight  years  after  our  arrival,  the  congregation  had  built 
a  commodious  log  and  plastered  church  and  father  was 
receiving  four  hundred  dollars  salary,  while  I  had  saved 
two  hundred  dollars.  With  this  and  father's  savings,  we 
bought  the  Dimmick  place,  a  comfortable  village  home. 


LOOKING    BACK  33 

On  my  twenty-first  birthday  I  married  Fanny  Shep- 
herd, a  beautiful  blue-eyed  girl  of  eighteen,  when  we, 
with  father,  moved  into  our  new  quarters,  and  as  Mr. 
Stubbs  had  proposed  taking  me  in  as  a  partner,  we  looked 
forward  to  a  happy  and  prosperous  life. 

Father's  affectionate  acts  and  words  to  Fanny  caused 
her  to  love  him  and,  when  we  were  blessed  with  a  little 
baby  boy,  our  happiness  was  complete,  but,  oh,  how  little 
did  I  dream  of  the  dark  storm  that  was  gathering  on 
yonder  horizon,  whose  distant  thunder  I  could  not  hear, 
and  angry  lightning  I  could  not  see,  but  whose  dark 
mantle,  when  spread  over,  would  cause  me  to  bow  down 
in  grief,  such  as  few  ever  realize. 

DEACON    HOBBS 

Deacon  Hobbs,  returning  in  IMarch,  from  Salem, 
stated  in  open  church  that  he  had  learned  that  George 
Burroughs  was  not  a  regularly  ordained  minister,  even 
if  he  once  had  been,  and  if  he  received  spiritual  aid, 
as  he  claimed,  it  was  not  the  spirit  of  God,  but  that  of  the 
devil.  He  advised  all  members  to  beware  of  wolves  in 
sheep  clothing. 

Father  replied :  "  'An  evil  tree  cannot  bring  forth 
good  fruit.'  Look  to  the  right  and  left,  Deacon  Hobbs, 
and  view  the  two  hundred  members  working  in  the  Mast- 
er's vineyard.  Compare  my  life  of  the  past  few  years 
with  yours.  I,  with  my  son's  assistance,  and  the  liberality 
of  my  flock,  have  saved  enough  to  buy  a  modest  home, 
while  you  have  sponged  up  nearly  half  the  wealth  of  this 
town.  Your  barns,  storehouses,  and  pockets  are  full.  I 
have  not  charged  usury  for  money,  cheated  the  red  man 
out  of  his  honest  dues  or  trampled  upon  the  rights  of 
widows  and  orphans ;  all  these  things  you  have  done.     I 


34  LOOKING   BACK 

think  I  divine  your  purpose;  but  now  listen,  you  steeple 
of  soulless  piety,  neither  insinuations  nor  acts  will  intimi- 
date me.  Not  for  an  extension  of  this  momentary  life 
would  I  budge  one  hair  to  the  right  or  left  from  the 
path  my  Master  has  laid  out  for  me.  He  knows  it  all, 
and  why  should  I  fear?"  At  this  point  Hobbs  left  the 
church. 


THE  ARREST 

On  May  4,  1692,  father,  Fanny  and  myself  were  at 
the  table  with  the  baby  boy  in  father's  arms,  he  saying 
that  it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  the  whole  family  was 
there  unless  he  had  the  baby  on  his  knee.  As  dear  Fanny 
was  joking  him  about  feeding  a  baby  two  weeks  old,  two 
officers  stepped  into  the  room  and  read  a  warrant  to 
him.  It  was  for  the  arrest  of  George  Burroughs  as  being 
suspected  of  being  in  complicity  with  the  Devil.  The 
warrant  was  dated  Boston,  April  30th,  1692.  (See  Bos- 
ton Records.) 

Without  permission  to  bid  us  privately  good-bye,  his 
hands  were  shackled,  he  was  placed  on  a  horse,  and  they 
rode  away  at  full  gallop. 

Fanny  was  in  no  condition  to  be  left  alone,  but  she 
urged  me  to  saddle  her  father's  horse  at  once  and  follow 
on.  Soon  the  horse  was  waiting  for  me,  but  she  could 
not  let  me  go,  she  wept  so  bitterly  while  she  flung  her 
lovely  arms  around  my  neck,  but  at  last  with  one  sweet 
kiss  she  bade  me  hasten  and  said  she  would  go  home 
to  Father  Shepherd's  until  I  returned. 

Fanny,  oh,  Fanny !  How  little  did  I  think  the  heart 
which  loved  me  so  fondly  would  soon  be  silent  in  the 
grave  and  I  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer — no  friends,  no 
home,  and  no  one  to  love  me. 

Twenty  miles  away  I  caught  up  with  them,  when  we 
rode  nearly  three  days,  with  father's  hands  unnecessarily 
shackled,  most  of  the  time.  The  second  day  he  said: 
35 


36  LOOKING    BACK 

"Jimmy,  this  is  my  last  earthly  ride.  The  church  is  in 
error  and  will  continue  its  injustice  until  some  tragedy 
awakens  the  people,  then  it  will  be  restrained.  I  may  as 
well  suffer  as  another.  Jesus  intends  righteousness  to 
eventually  govern  His  church,  but  his  professed  follow- 
ers are  often  blind  to  truth  and  righteousness,  and  will  be 
until  some  great  wrong  is  committed  whereby  they  can 
place  right  against  wTong  for  compromise.  Do  not  weep, 
my  boy,  soon,  in  a  moment  as  it  were,  you  and  I  will 
stand  before  the  judge,  and  who  will  this  judge  be? 
Our  lives,  just  the  plain  record  of  our  lives.  There  and 
then  we  can  easily  forgive  those  who  have  wronged  us, 
but  if  we  have  wronged  others,  will  their  forgiveness  to 
us  set  us  free?  Not  unless  a  higher  power  steps  in.  Oh, 
this  will  be  all  right,  my  son,  when  the  sunlight  of  Jesus 
shall  awaken  us  to  the  new  born  day.  I  was  thinking  last 
night  how  glad  I  was  that  Jesus  had  already  pleaded  my 
cause.  Oh,  yes,  the  cause  of  poor  unworthy  me.  Pray, 
pray,  humbly  my  brave  boy.  Pray  that  you  enter  not  into 
temptation  and  seek  revenge.  Do  not  forget  that  your 
Heavenly  Father  knows  your  inmost  secret  thoughts,  and 
when  you  pray  ask  Jesus  to  forgive  my  tormentors,  for 
as  he  said  on  Calvary,  'They  know  not  what  they  do.'  " 

I   will  omit  the  bitter  experience   I   passed  through 
during  father's  sham  trial  and  cruel  execution. 


THE  MARTYRS 

The  public  records  of  the  execution  of  the  Salem 
martyrs  were : 

June  10.  1692. 
Bridget  Bishop. 

July  19,  1692. 
Sarah   Good,    Sarah   Wildes,   Lizzie   Howe.   Rebecca 
Nurse,  Susanna  Martin. 

August  19,  1692. 
George  Burroughs.  John  Proctor.  George  Jacobs,  John 
\\'illard.  ]\Iartha  Carrier. 

September  19,  1692. 
Giles  Corey. 

September  22,  1692. 
Martha  Corey,  Mary  Easty,  Alice  Parker,  Ann  Pude- 
ator,  Margaret  Scott,  Wilmot  Reed,  Samuel  Wardwell, 
Mary  Parker. 

Abel  Pike,  John  Richardson,  Mary  Parsons,  Annie 
Hibbins,  Margaret  Jones,  and  others  were  known  to  have 
been  executed,  but  there  is  no  record  of  their  arrest  or 
trial  at  Salem.  On  the  gallows,  Richardson  said :  "Go 
on  with  your  hanging,  I  do  not  want  to  live  in  a  world 
with  such  fools." 


37 


THE  ESCAPE 

The  evening  after  father's  execution  I  started  for 
Casco  Bay,  and  on  arriving  at  a  tavern  about  ten  miles 
out,  I  found  two  officers  awaiting  me.  I  was  at  once 
taken  back  to  the  same  prison  and  placed  in  a  cell  to  await 
my  turn  on  gallows  hill. 

The  jailer,  whom  I  had  know  when  a  boy,  said  his 
orders  were  to  give  me  bread  and  water  once  a  day.  He 
was  a  man  about  my  size,  but  I  knew  that  I  was  stronger 
than  he;  besides  in  a  struggle  for  life,  I  believed  my 
guardian  angel  would  increase  my  power.  I  concluded 
that  if  once  outside  the  jail,  with  ten  minutes  the  start,  I 
could  reach  the  woods  and  make  my  way  to  some  far- 
away Indian  tribe  and  in  time  come  and  take  Fanny 
and  the  baby  to  live  with  me  among  the  natives,  who, 
now,  to  me,  seemed  angels. 

Accordingly,  when  he  came  about  noon  the  third  day, 
I  pointed  to  the  wall  back  of  him,  saying,  "What  is 
that?"  and  when  he  turned,  I  slipped  my  hand  under  his 
arm  and  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  with  the  other  in 
his  long  hair  I  broke  him  backwards  over  my  knee  to 
the  ground,  continuing  my  deadly  grip  until  he  ceased  to 
struggle  and  lay  like  one  dead.  Then,  quickly,  before 
he  revived,  I  slipped  on  his  official  garb  and  drawing  his 
hat  over  my  face  started  for  the  door,  which  I  passed 
through  and  slammed  behind  me.  Then  lazily  locking  it 
and  dangling  the  bunch  of  keys  I  had  taken  from  him 
I  walked  towards  Cotton  Mather,  who  was  standing,  his 
38 


LOOKING    BACK  39 

back  to  me,  and  unlocked  one  of  the  cells.  Then,  as  he 
did  not  notice  me,  I  passed  him,  and  on  turning  towards 
the  outer  door  I  saw  the  jailer's  assistant,  who  was  talk- 
ing to  a  female  prisoner,  whom  I  also  passed  without 
interruption.  Stepping  into  the  free  world,  I  locked  the 
door  behind  me,  leaving  the  keys  in  the  door,  and  walked 
down  the  road,  to  a  woodshed,  where  I  threw  off  the 
official  garb  and  ran  to  the  woods  for  dear  life. 

I  now  worked  my  way  to  Casco  Bay  with  great  diffi- 
culty. I  could  not  travel  nights,  for  fear  of  the  wolves, 
so  I  crept  cautiously  along  in  the  daytime  through  the 
woods  and  came  down  and  slept  in  barns  nights,  where 
I  usually  found  milk  or  eggs ;  and  on  the  fifth  day,  as  the 
sun  was  setting,  I  arrived  in  an  opening  on  what  we  called 
Chestnut  Hill,  and  looked  down  on  the  village  of  Casco 
Bay. 


STUBBS'   STORE 

Oh,  I  wanted  to  see  Fanny  so  badly,  but  I  knew  I  was 
on  dangerous  ground,  as  officers  would  surely  be  waiting 
for  me,  and  probably  at  Father  Shepherd's  was  where 
they  would  expect  to  find  me.  Accordingly  I  decided  to 
wait  until  midnight  and  then  go  down  to  Mr.  Stubbs' 
store,  where  I  had  worked  so  many  years,  and  could 
easily  gain  entrance,  and  hide  among  the  boxes  and  lie 
there  through  the  day  to  learn  from  overhearing  what 
was  going  on  about  the  village.  So  after  breaking  into 
the  store  and  eating  my  fill  of  Stubbs'  crackers  and  cheese, 
I  fixed  my  nest  under  the  dirty  old  front  counter  and  fell 
asleep. 

In  the  morning  I  heard  the  boy  unlock  the  store, 
which  reminded  me  of  the  times  I  first  came  there.  He 
walked  directly  on  the  brown  sugar  hogshead  and  stood 
and  ate  for  about  three  minutes,  and  then  began  to  hunt 
for  the  broom  while  with  his  mouth  full  of  cheese  he 
tried  to  whistle  a  lively  tune. 

Soon  another  boy  came  in  and  I  heard  him  say,  "Hello, 
Ralph,  did  you  hear  about  the  'tectives?" 

"  'Tectives — what  is  a  'tective  ?" 

"Why,  don't  you  know,  Ralph  ?  I  have  always  known 
that.  Besides  father  told  us  all  about  it  this  morning. 
They  are  officers  with  their  coats  buttoned  up,  and  you 
would  think  they  were  real  men  until  they  catch  you 
and  take  you  to  jail  and  hang  you;  so  father  says." 

"Gracious  alive !    Have  you  seen  a  live  one.  Bill  ?" 
40 


LOOKING    BACK  41 

"No,  I  never  have,  but  father  has.  He  said  there  were 
two  hanging  around  Uncle  Wilham's  last  night.  He 
thinks  they  are  the  same  ones  which  carried  off  our 
minister,  and  he  says  he  don't  know  who  they  are  after 
unless  it  is  Jim  Burroughs,  and  it  can't  be  him,  either, 
for  he  is  dead,  they  say  the  Indians  or  wolves  have  eat 
him  up." 

"Golly,  that's  strange.  Bill.  Maybe  they're  after  Jim's 
wife.  You  know  them  pleggy  ministers  at  Salem  kill 
lots  of  good  folks." 

"Oh,  no,  Ralph,  no  'tectives  haven't  touched  her.  be- 
cause she's  got  a  baby,  besides  she  is  awful  sick.  \\'hen 
she  heard  Jim  was  dead  she  went  right  into  spazumbs  or 
something,  and  she  is  going  to  die.  Why,  she  moans  so 
loud  we  can  hear  her  clear  over  to  our  house.  Mother 
said  she  was  crazy  all  day  and  thought  that  Jim  was  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed  and  would  not  take  her  in  his  arms. 
She  kept  saying,  'Oh,  Jim,  Jim,  don't  you  love  me  any 
more,  won't  you  let  me  put  my  arms  around  your  neck 
and  kiss  you  once  more  before  I  die  ?'  " 

Here  the  conversation  ended,  and  I  could  see  Ralph 
with  his  arm  on  Bill's  shoulder  both  sobbing  and  wiping 
the  tears  with  their  dirty  sleeve  and  I  bowed  my  face 
down  and  moaned  until  Ralph  said,  "What  was  that 
noise?" 

Stubbs  came  in  and  said,  "Ralph,  why  have  you  not 
swept  the. floor?" 

"Because  I  can't  find  the  broom.  Besides  Bill  has 
been  telling  me  all  about  how  sick  Jim  Burroughs'  wife 
is,  and  how  there  is  'tectives  around  here  to  catch  some 
one — I  think  vou  had  better  look  out." 


42  LOOKING    BACK 

"It  isn't  'tectives,  Ralph,  say  detectives.  Do  wipe  the 
sugar  off  your  mouth  and  speak  more  proper." 

"Didn't  know  there  was  sugar  on  my  mouth — Oh,  yes, 
there  was  a  lump  fell  out  of  the  hogshead  when  I  was 
sweeping,  and  it  was  so  dirty  that  I  did  not  like  to  put  it 
back  into  the  clean  sugar,  so  I  ate  it." 

"I  thought  you  said  you  had  not  swept,  for  you  could 
not  find  the  broom." 

"Oh — I — ^yes — say,  Mr.  Stubbs,  did  you  ever  see  a 
live  detective?" 

"Now,  that  will  do,  Ralph ;  never  mind  the  sweeping ; 
go  and  count  Mrs.  Armstrong's  eggs,  for  she  is  waiting. 
Now,  Ralph,  do  not  count  double-yelk  eggs  for  two  any 
more,  do  you  understand?" 

"I  don't  see  why,  as  long  as  there  might  be  a  rooster 
and  a  pullet." 

"Yes — yes — Mrs.  Armstrong,  he  is  coming  as  soon  as 
he  grasps  the  cause  of  twins." 

PAUL    DIMOCK 

Stubbs  and  the  boy  now  trudged  around  the  store 
waiting  on  customers  until  about  10  o'clock,  when  Paul 
Dimock  came  in  and  engaged  Stubbs  in  an  undertone, 
but  being  directly  over  my  head,  I  could  hear  all.  "I 
have  learned,"  said  Dimock,  "that  two  detectives  are 
stopping  at  Deacon  Hobbs',  and  have  been  several  days, 
and  no  one  knows  who  they  are  looking  for." 

"You  see,  Paul,"  said  Stubbs,  "that  Hobbs  was  in- 
strumental in  Brother  Burroughs'  arrest,  and  I  have 
been  told  his  daughter,  Abigail,  swore  at  Salem  that  she 
saw  two  black  devils  standing  behind  Brother  Burroughs 
while  praying — " 


LOOKING    BACK  43 

At  this  point  a  third  party  came  in,  and  I  recognized 
the  well-known  voice  of  Susan  Beaver. 

"Isn't  it  awful  about  Deacon  Hobbs?"  she  said.  "I 
suppose  that  is  your  secret?  Why,  I  do  think  it  is  just 
terrible." 

"What  news,  Mrs.  Beaver?    What  have  you  heard?" 

"Why,  last  night  when  Tom  came  home  late,  he  said 
he  saw  two  strangers  come  out  of  the  woods  and  sneak 
into  the  deacon's  house.  So,  out  of  curiosity,  Sarah  and 
I  slid  around  and  peeped  in  at  the  window,  and  sure 
enough  there  they  were,  eating  supper  and  the  deacon 
was — hush,  there  comes  old  Hobbs  now." 

"Good  afternoon.  Deacon,"  said  Stubbs,  "what  is  the 
news  ?" 

"Bad  news,  awful  bad.  They  say  Fanny  Burroughs 
is  very  low.  My  heart  aches  for  that  family.  James  was 
a  good  boy,  and  I  wonder  if  anyone  knows  for  certain 
that  he  is  dead  .  I  think  possibly  he  may  be  among  the 
Indians  yet,  although  Shepherds'  folks  are  sure  he  is 
dead,  or  he  would  come  to  Fanny.  I  suppose  you  have  no 
particulars.  Then  there  was  George,  his  father,  that 
they  hung  down  at  Salem.  I  wonder  where  they  got 
evidence  to  convict  him?  To  be  sure,  he  and  I  did  not 
exactly  agree  as  to  our  religious  views,  but  I  never  took 
that  to  heart,  and  would  have  done  all  I  could  to  have 
saved  him,  even  if  he  was  not  a  regular  ordained  min- 
ister. I  think  from  his  record  here  that  he  was  honest, 
don't  you,  Mr.  Dimock?" 

"Yes,  Deacon  Hobbs,  I  do.  And  James,  his  son,  was 
an  honest,  upright  and  worthy  citizen,  and  whoever  was 
instrumental  in  causing  those  officers  at  Salem  to  come 
into  our  midst  and  take  them  away  and  murder  them 
outright  will  surely  repent  when  it  is  too  late.    I  believe 


44  LOOKING    BACK 

they  have  imprisoned  Jim,  and  either  have  or  will  hang 
him,  for  the  report  of  his  being  killed  by  the  Indians,  or 
wolves,  may  have  come  direct  from  Salem.  Oh,  Mr. 
Hobbs,  it  shatters  my  faith,  that  our  Heavenly  Father 
allows  such  men  to  live.  This  is  terrible,"  he  uttered, 
as  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face  and  repeated, 
"terrible,  terrible."  Then  as  if  aroused  by  wrong,  he 
raised  his  voice  as  he  faced  the  deacon,  and  continued : 
"Deacon  Hobbs,  I  am  no  more  safe  than  they  were.  If 
an  officer  should  come  in  here  now  and  arrest  me  for 
complicity  with  the  devil,  I  should  consider  it  my  death 
knell,  would  you  not  ?" 

"Well,  really,"  began  the  deacon,  "I  do  not  know. 
You  see,  I  have  been  down  to  Salem  and  talked  with 
Cotton  Mather  and  others  prominent  in  the  church,  and 
they  seem  to  be  worthy  Christians.  I  have  thought 
George  Burroughs  may  have  been  convicted  of  some  other 
crime.  You  see,  the  prison  is  closely  guarded  and  all  we 
get  is  hearsay." 


SUSAN  BEAVER 

The  reader  will  remember  that  Susan  Beaver  was 
talking  when  the  deacon  came  in,  and  now  stood  listening 
to  his  subterfuge,  and  Dimock's  stinging  insinuations. 
As  I  remember  Susan,  she  was  short,  stout,  with  black 
eyes,  glistening  teeth,  and  quick  movements.  She  tried 
to  keep  silent,  but  now  her  cup  of  wrath  was  full,  and 
reached  the  high-water  mark,  where  danger  could  not 
restrain  the  break,  and  she  broke: 

"Deacon  Hobbs,  you  miserable  old  liar,  I  saw  the 
detectives  in  your  house  myself.  Maybe  they're  waiting 
to  take  my  husband  to  Salem.  If  so,  you  can  inform 
them  that  they  can  never  cross  our  threshold  unless  it 
is  over  my  dead  body.  You  say  you  do  not  know  much 
about  it.  Was  not  Abigail  at  Salem,  swearing  against 
the  minister?  Did  not  you  both  swear  he  was  in  league 
with  the  Devil?  Now  you  say  he  may  have  been  con- 
victed of  some  other  crime.  George  Burroughs,  that 
worthy  Christian  minister,  defile  his  name,  now  he  is 
dead,  will  you?  Oh,  you  ought  not  to  live  another  min- 
ute," and  suiting  the  action  to  the  w^ord,  she  sprang 
across  the  store  to  the  old  cheese  box.  Now,  I  knew  the 
cheese  knife  was  long  and  heavy,  and  in  the  hands  of  a 
desperate  woman.  Bang-slam-bang,  they  went  around 
and  around  the  store,  he  holding  a  chair  before  him  and 
crying,  "Help !  Murder !"  while  she  struck  out  wildly 
without  speaking  a  word.  Dimock  and  Stubbs  sprang 
45 


46  LOOKING    BACK 

in  to  save  the  deacon's  life,  but  when  I  peeped  through 
the  crack  and  saw  the  broad  grin  on  Dimock's  face,  I 
concluded  their  interference  was  not  genuine.  The  deacon 
worked  around  the  counter,  when  she  sprang  on  top  and 
had  him  in  a  trap,  at  which  he  dropped  his  chair  and  ran 
and  plunged  through  the  window  headlong.  After  he 
had  escaped,  and  Susan  had  time  to  think,  she  sat  down 
and  began  to  cry,  but  on  being  assured  by  Dimock  that 
no  one  would  think  the  less  of  her,  she  left  the  store. 

While  Paul  was  helping  board  up  the  broken  window, 
I  overheard  Stubbs  ask  him :  "Do  you  consider  Cotton 
Mather  and  his  associates  murderers?" 

"Oh,  no,"  was  the  reply,  "not  exactly  that.  It  is  a 
phenomenal  wave  of  insanity.  Similar  waves  have  spread 
their  gloomy  pall  over  the  innocent,  long  before  Joshua 
put  the  women  and  children  to  death  at  Jericho.  These 
Salemites  are  at  war  with  the  Devil  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple that  one  nation  wars  with  another ;  they  justify 
themselves  through  a  spasmodic  lunacy,  that  duty  calls 
them  to  kill  their  fellow  beings. 

"God  works  in  a  mysterious  way.  Cotton  Mather  may 
be  blind.  He  may  be  a  tool  in  the  hand  of  a  higher 
power.  Finite  beings  do  not  comprehend  the  infinite.  If 
God  permits,  does  He  not  sanction?  These  cruelties 
will  have  a  tendency  to  humanize  Christianit}^  When 
years  have  passed  and  Brother  Burroughs  thinks  over 
earthly  life  he  will  not  regret  that  his  Maker  called  him 
home  at  noon.  Friendship  and  love  will  increase  towards 
the  Burroughs  family.  They  are  just  leaving  their  lights 
along  the  shore.  The  love  of  Jesus  will  spread  when  the 
church  shall  have  hatched  out  of  its  shell  of  ignorance ; 
then  it  will  stand  on  a  higher  and  more  liberal  plane; 


LOOKING    BACK  47 

midnight  to  us  may  be  morning  to  the  angels.  Do  you 
know,  Stubbs,  what  is  the  main  trouble  with  the  human 
family  ?" 

"I  do  not,  Paul.    What  is  it?" 

"It  is  that  they  know  less  than  they  are  aware  of." 

After  the  store  had  been  closed  and  Stubbs  was  work- 
ing on  his  books,  I  heard  the  door  open  and  some  one 
come  in. 

"Good  evening,  doctor.     How  is  Fanny  Burroughs?" 

The  doctor  came  near  and  replied  in  an  almost  inaudi- 
ble voice,  "She  is  dead."  The  little  bullet-headed  doctor 
was  affected,  for  I  could  hear  his  voice  tremble.  "Oh, 
well,"  he  replied  to  Stubbs'  inquiry,  "She  had  no  disease, 
the  poor  girl  actually  died  of  a  broken  heart.  Such  suf- 
fering I  never  saw  before,  but  when  she  did  go  if  you 
had  seen  her,  Stubbs,  you  would  never  question  the 
theory  of  life  beyond  dissolution  of  the  body.  She  raised 
her  eyes  upwards,  smiled  so  sweetly  and  said :  'Oh, 
father,  father,  where  is  Jim?'  I  am  sorry,  Stubbs,  I 
have  not  led  a  better  life,  for  I  have  known  Fanny 
Shepherd  since  she  was  born  and  if  God  will  forgive  the 
past,  I  will  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  try  to  meet  her 
when  I  die.  I  know  now  that  our  minister,  whom  I 
always  ridiculed,  was  right  there  in  the  room  with  us 
when  she  was  dying.  Besides,  Mr.  Stubbs,  I  believe  Jim 
is  alive,  for  if  he  had  been  dead  he  would  have  been  the 
first  one  for  her  to  recognize.  You  see,  she  was  expect- 
ing to  see  him  and  he  was  not  there." 

Here  Jim's  heart  and  voice  seemed  to  fail  and  Win- 
nie put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  they  sobbed  con- 
vulsively for  a  moment  and  then  continued : 

When  all  was  still  I  crept  from  my  hiding  place, 
washed  my  face,  but  could  not  eat.    As  usual,  the  shutters 


48  LOOKING    BACK 

were  closed,  so  I  lit  a  candle  and  began  to  rummage 
around  the  store.  I  found  Stubbs  had  a  new  musket  with 
a  horn  of  powder  and  a  bag  of  shot,  and  as  I  knew  he 
would  gladly  give  them  to  me,  I  took  them.  Then  I 
waited  until  near  dawn,  when  I  went  out  to  the  hill  in 
the  woods  and  stayed  all  day,  on  the  very  spot  where  I 
had  spent  many  happy  hours  with  Fanny.  1  could  look 
down  into  the  room  where  I  had  courted  and  wedded  my 
dear  Fanny,  and  could  see  part  on  one  of  her  arms,  as 
her  body  lay  near  the  window,  in  Father  Shepherd's 
house.  Also  I  saw  the  village  carpenter  making  my 
Fanny's  coffin  and  a  stranger  digging  her  grave.  That 
night  I  slept  in  the  store  again  and  the  next  day,  from 
the  same  hill,  I  saw  them  lower  her  body  into  the  grave, 
but  my  heart  was  locked  in  despair;  I  could  not  weep. 


REVENGE 

At  night  I  came  down  and  went  to  the  grave.  The 
distant  stars  seemed  to  be  shedding  their  soft  light  on  a 
lonely  world,  while  the  moon  about  setting  cast  her 
ghastly  beams  among  the  chestnut  trees,  making  the 
scene,  oh,  so  lonely,  in  that  silent  little  graveyard.  Out 
upon  the  cold  waters  of  the  bay  I  could  see  the  silver 
waves  glisten  in  the  moonlight  among  the  familiar  bayous, 
which  I  should  never  see  again,  while  far  beyond  the 
bosom  of  the  great  Atlantic  seemed  to  heave  a  sigh  of 
grief  at  my  loneliness.  I  fell  upon  dear  Fanny's  grave, 
kissed  the  clay  and  wondered  if  she  was  there.  Then 
breathing  a  long  farewell,  I  folded  my  hands  in  prayer, 
asking  God  to  forgive  me  for  the  crime  I  was  about  to 
commit. 

Hastily  I  then  walked  towards  Stubbs'  store,  resolved 
to  settle  with  Deacon  Hobbs  and  then  turn  my  back  on 
white  man  forever.  I  entered  the  store  and  wrote  on  a 
slip  of  brown  paper:  "Obadiah  Stubbs,  a  friend  has 
taken  your  gun  and  ammunition,"  and  placed  the  slip 
in  the  cash  drawer. 

When  outside  of  the  store  I  walked  lively  to  the 
deacon's  nearest  storehouse,  then  ran  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  at  last  set  fire  to  his  home,  then  stepped  back 
into  the  lilac  bushes  and  cocked  my  gun. 

Soon  I  saw  great  curls  of  smoke  ascending  from  the 
storehouses  on  the  wharf,  then  the  barns  and  sheds,  and 
now  the  home  had  caught  fire.  Then  seeing  the  family 
49 


50  LOOKING    BACK 

in  danger,  to  awaken  them  I  seized  a  rock  and  dashed  it 
through  the  window. 

The  family  were  now  aroused  and  Hobbs  ran  to  the 
well  for  water,  when  I  raised  my  gun,  but  a  shadow  came 
before  me,  and  I  could  not  see  him.  Again  he  ran  out 
and  again  I  raised  the  gun,  determined  to  kill  him,  just 
as  I  felt  a  soft  pressure  on  my  shoulder  and  turning 
quickly  I  found  myself  alone.    Then  I  knew  I  must  not. 

As  I  walked  away  from  old  Chestnut  Hill,  I  gave 
one  last,  lingering  look.  It  was  now  daybreak,  and  as  I 
gazed  down  on  the  little  village  where  I  had  spent  so 
many  happy  days  I  saw  that  all  of  Deacon  Hobbs'  wealth 
had  ascended  into  smoke.  Stubbs'  old  store  looked  as 
dingy  and  dirty  as  ever.  Father's  church,  on  which  I  had 
often  looked  so  fondly,  now  seemed  silently  waiting  to 
catch  the  first  glimmer  of  the  morning  sun  as  it  came 
to  give  light  and  life  to  the  hills  and  valleys  of  old  New 
England.  Father  Shepherd's  house,  the  door  through 
which  I  had  passed  so  many  times  with  a  light  heart, 
were  all  plain  to  my  view.  Once  more  I  looked  through 
the  trees  to  the  grave  of  Fanny  and  walked  away. 


ALONE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

About  noon,  the  first  day  out,  I  met  three  Indians 
and  we  took  lunch  together,  they  furnishing  bear  meat 
and  I  cheese  and  crackers,  which  I  had  borrowed  from 
Stubbs.  After  this  I  trudged  on,  following  an  old  trail 
in  a  westerly  direction,  hoping  to  find  Indians  who  could 
give  me  shelter  for  the  night,  but  finding  none,  I  started 
a  fire  at  dark  to  scare  the  wolves  away  and  prepared  to 
stay  in  the  woods  alone. 

As  darkness  came  on  and  my  fire  lit  up  the  woods,  I 
was  lonely  and  yearned  for  a  friend,  while  a  strangeness 
came  over  me  which  caused  me  to  shudder.  The  excite- 
ment had  past,  and  I  was  left  to  contemplate  as  to  the 
course  I  had  taken  and  where  my  pathway  of  life  might 
be  leading  me.  I  saw  myself,  as  only  a  short  time  before, 
a  promising  young  man  of  the  wild  wood  harbor  village ; 
but  now  alone  in  the  wilderness,  soon  to  be  a  ragged, 
friendless  outcast.  Was  my  condition  better  or  worse 
than  Fanny's  or  father's?  Silently  I  knelt  and  implored 
the  unseen  to  forgive  all  and  keep  me  pure  in  heart  as 
I  wended  my  way  over  mountains  of  trouble  and  through 
vales  of  temptation. 

While  pondering  I  heard  the  flapping  of  wings,  and 
a  large  owl  came  and  lit  on  a  dry  limb  above  me  and  began 
its  lonely  hooting.  The  night  was  still,  save  the  occasional 
bark  of  a  wolf  and  the  echo  of  the  bird's  dreary  chant, 
which  under  ordinary  circumstances  would  have  startled 
51 


52  LOOKING    BACK 

me,  but  now  rising  to  my  feet  I  gazed  at  the  intruder 
with  an  eye  of  gladness  and  longed  to  caress  him  as  a 
friend,  while  I  murmured,  "Your  lot  on  earth  as  com- 
pared with  mine  is  to  be  envied.  Carelessly  and  thought- 
lessly youi-  days  pass  with  no  regret  for  the  past  or 
anxiety  for  the  morrow,  while  my  sympathetic  heart, 
actuated  by  an  ingenious  brain,  dashes  cold  waves  of 
sorrow  against  bleak  rocks  of  cruel  destiny." 

I  closed  my  eyes  and  again  implored  my  Heavenly 
Father  to  increase  my  strength  to  tread  the  thorny  way. 
Then  I  pondered  over  my  condition  again  and  cried,  "Oh, 
the  heart — the  human  heart — that  beats  in  sympathy  i 
Oh,  the  soul  that  longs  to  comfort  some  one  and  yearns 
to  be  loved  in  return !" 

Gazing  high  into  the  far  away  Eternity  where  all 
seemed  lovely  and  serene,  I  said,  "Silence  is  the  token 
of  love.  Fanny  is ;  yes,  she  still  lives,  but  she  is  silent 
and  in  her  silence  she  loves  me  still." 

Then  the  stars,  hills  and  trees,  like  friends,  came  near 
and  shared  with  me  my  troubles,  and  as  I  sank  upon  the 
ground  overcome  I  thought  I  was  a  child  again  and 
mother  whispered  low  and  sweet,  "Love  your  enemies 
and  Jesus  will  love  you." 

Resting  upon  a  bed  of  leaves  with  my  boots  for  a 
pillow,  the  angel  of  dreams  took  me  in  her  fair  arms. 
Fanny  and  I  were  walking  beside  a  laughing  crytsal 
stream,  gathering  wild  flowers,  whose  fragrance  seemed 
to  fill  the  balmy  air,  where  familiar  birds  came  and 
warbled  sweet  notes  over  our  heads  while  the  soft  sun- 
shine bore  upon  the  scene,  peeping  into  the  shady  grove 
and  forming  our  peaceful  nook  into  a  perfect  bower  of 
love.  Here  upon  a  bank  strewn  with  tiny  violets  I 
kneeled  at  Fanny's   feet  and  asked  her  to  become  my 


POOR  JIM.   LONELY   BUT   XOT  ALOXL.    p-ANM  E    IS   NEAR. 


LOOKING    BACK  53 

wife.  She  did  not  speak,  but  looked  on  me  with  her  own 
sweet  smile  as  she  glided  softly  away.  I  arose  to  follow 
her,  when  I  awoke  and  found  myself  alone  in  the  dark 
woods. 

Morrxing  came  at  last,  and  not  being  able  to  taste 
my  food,  I  trudged  on,  and  in  a  few  days  reached  Spring- 
field, where  I  first  assumed  the  name  of  James  Hall. 
There  I  worked  about  ten  days  for  a  man  named  Anson 
Newell,  but  when  I  learned  there  were  two  families 
there  from  Salem  I  feared  detection  and  decided  to  go. 


HUNTING  FOR  BABY 

I  now  abandoned  the  idea  of  living  with  the  Indians 
and  worked  my  way  over  the  Green  Mountains,  then 
down  the  Hudson  River  to  New  York.  During  the 
winter  my  mind  was  continually  on  my  baby  boy,  and 
when  spring  came  I  started  East  to  try  to  locate  him. 
At  Hartford  I  stayed  a  few  days,  hoping  to  find  someone 
from  Casco  Bay,  but  being  unsuccessful  I  went  on  and 
spent  the  night  with  about  thirty  Indians  in  the  dark 
grove  south  of  Wabbaquassett  Lake.  Here  I  found  a 
buck  and  his  squaw,  who  had  lived  near  Casco  Bay,  but 
they  knew  nothing  of  church  affairs. 

Next  morning  near  Stafford,  just  as  I  was  turning 
north  from  the  river  bend,  I  met  a  party  of  hunters,  one 
of  whom  I  recognized  as  Josiah  Converse,  from  near 
Casco  Bay.  After  passing,  I  overheard  him  remark- 
"That  man  looks  and  walks  just  exactly  like  Jim  Bur- 
roughs, and  if  I  did  not  know  he  was  dead,  I  would 
swear  it  was  he."  This  remark  disturbed  me,  for  I  had 
thought  that  my  full  beard  and  shabby  clothes  had  dis- 
guised me.  Soon  I  passed  near  my  baby  boy  but  did  not 
know  it. 

When  I  arrived  at  Casco  Bay  I  was  puzzled  as  to 
how  I  was  to  get  my  information.  Stubbs'  store  could 
not  be  approached  now,  as  I  had  left  traces  of  my  last 
visit  and  someone  might  be  on  the  alert,  so  I  hung  around 
Chestnut  Hill  three  days,  secreted  near  the  road,  hoping 
54 


LOOKING    BACK  55 

to  see  someone  passing  who  was  a  stranger.  Several 
acquaintances  passed  each  day,  among  whom  was  old 
Deacon  Hobbs,  which  made  my  blood  boil,  and  I  almost 
forgot  that  I  was  to  love  my  enemies.  One  day  a  strange 
boy  approached  and  I  ran  up  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  and 
then  turned  and  met  him. 

"Does  Deacon  Hobbs  live  in  this  town?"  I  inquired. 

"Yes,  he  lives  over  there  in  that  cottage." 

"Do  you  think  he  wants  to  hire  a  man?" 

"Oh,  no,  he  does  not  want  help.  He  is  poor  now ;  all 
he  had  is  burned  up." 

"Who  did  it?" 

"We  do  not  know,  but  think  it  was  an  angel  from 
heaven,  and  every  one  is  glad." 

"Why  were  they  glad?" 

"Oh,  because  he  killed  the  minister.  That  was  last 
year,  and  I  was  not  here." 

"How  did  he  do  it?" 

"\\^ell,  he  did  not  kill  him,  but  he  got  some  folks  down 
in  Salem  to  come  up  and  arrest  him  and  they  hanged 
him." 

"Did  he  kill  anyone  else?" 

"Yes,  he  killed  James  Burroughs  and  Fanny,  too,  so 
Mr.  Shepherd  says." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"James  was  the  minister's  son  and  Fanny  was  his 
wife.  I  live  with  the  Shepherds  and  heard  them  say 
these  things." 

"Did  James  and  Fanny  have  any  children?" 

"Yes,  they  must  have  had  one,  for  I  heard  Mrs.  Shep- 
herd tell  how  the  minister's  sister  came  on  from  Boston 
and  took  it  home  with  her." 


56  LOOKING    BACK 

Then  looking  inquiringly  in  my  face,  he  said,  "Say, 
mister,  are  you  sick?" 

"Oh,  no,"  I  replied,  and  we  passed  on. 

On  arriving  at  Boston  I  learned  that  uncle  had  died 
and  Aunt  Hannah  had  gone  with  her  sister,  Abigail,  who 
lived  in  Salem.  In  Salem,  with  great  difficulty,  I  learned 
they  had  sold  out  all  their  property  and  gone  West.  All 
further  efforts  were  fruitless  and  I  returned  to  New  York 
and  began  to  work  at  my  last  winter's  job,  where  I  worked 
quietly,  ever  on  the  alert  to  gain  tidings  of  my  boy. 


MULDOON 

One  day  while  I  was  working  with  an  Irishman 
named  Muldoon,  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Benjamin,  came 
along,  leading  his  little  daughter,  who,  pointing  to  Mul- 
doon, said,  "Papa,  what  makes  you  hire  paddies?  I  do 
not  like  them."  Muldoon  resented  the  innocent  prattle, 
and  turning  to  Benjamin,  said:  "Will  ye  allow  that  wee 
bit  of  a  brat  to  spake  that  way  of  a  gintleman?" 

"You  are  no  gentleman  to  call  a  child  a  brat,  and  if 
you  answer  back  I'll  discharge  you  at  once." 

Pat  tugged  away  in  silence  and  when  Benjamin  had 
gone  he  said :  "I  niver  knew  but  one  mon  in  me  life  as 
mane  as  ould  Benjamin  and  that  was  Cotton  Mather 
himself." 

"\A'hat  do  you  know  about  Cotton  Mather?"  I  eagerly 
inquired. 

"Nothing  good,  sir." 

"Were  you  ever  at  Salem?" 

"Do  yees  think  that  auld  Ben  aught  to  larn  that  wee 
bit  of  a  snipe  to  insolt  the  loikes  of  me?" 

"But,  Pat,  that  does  not  answer  my  question." 

"Thin  why  should  a  gintlemin  aloix  yee  be  axen  me- 
self  quistions  which  I  niver  knew  a-tal-tal?" 

"Yes,  you  do  know,  and  if  I  explain  why  I  am  so 
anxious  you'll  tell  me  all  you  can,  won't  you,  Pat?" 

"Yees  moight  be  an  officer." 
57 


58  LOOKING    BACK 

"Nonsense,  Pat,  haven't  you  worked  beside  me  for 
a  long  time?" 

"Sure,  but  you  moight  be." 

"No,  I  am  not,  and  you  should  not  be  afraid,  for  you 
have  never  committed  any  crime." 

"Oh,  Init  it  was  the  innocent  that  they  murthered. 
But,  Jim,  if  yees  will  lit  me  come  to  your  room  at  the  did 
o'  night  and  yees  will  kiss  the  Holy  Cross  and  hold  the 
sacred  Mary  to  your  heart  while  ye  swear  niver  to  till, 
I  might  till  yees  the  bit  I  know." 

When  Pat  arrived  at  midnight  he  whispered  in  my 
ear,  "Ye  see,  that  if  Cotton  Mather  hears  that  I  till  the 
truth  he  will  git  some  one  to  swear  I  am  posist  with  the 
devil  and  they  will  hang  me  sure." 

After  I  had  explained  to  him  how  large  a  dowery  had 
been  left  for  the  Burroughs  family,  and  that  a  child  had 
been  lost,  he  said :  "Then  it  is  not  Giles  Corey  yees  are 
after  hearing,  for  I  might  tell  yees  more  about  him,  for 
I  lived  with  him  both  before  and  after  he  was  dead." 

"No,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  George  Bur- 
roughs.   Did  you  ever  hear  about  him  ?" 

"Faith  and  indade,  I  did,  I  heard  him  make  his  last 
prayer  when  on  the  gallows,  asking  God  to  forgive  his 
inimies  and  we  all  wipped  loike  babbies,  we  did." 

"Did  he  have  a  family?" 

"Yis,  a  son.  A  fair  young  mon.  He  looked  so  much 
loike  yees  that  I  think  of  him  when  yees  walk  along,  but 
he  is  dead,  poor  bye.  When  he  started  home  he  lost  his 
way  and  the  wolves  ate  him.  Some  said  he  may  not  be 
ded,  but  shot  up  in  prison  to  be  hung,  but  I  know  he 
was  dead,  for  I  hilped  to  bury  his  bones." 

"Did  you  see  them?" 


LOOKING    BACK  59 

"No,  they  were  in  a  box,  but  I  knew  he  was  ded,  fer 
he  did  not  smill  hke  a  Hve  man,  and  his  wife  died,  but 
they  had  a  httle  one,  who  is  alive  now." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"He  was  first  taken  to  Boston  to  his  Aunt  Hannah's 
and  thin  to  his  Aunt  Abigail's  in  Salem,  thin  a  man  came 
on  from  Stafford,  Conn.,  and  took  him  to  keep.  His 
wife  was  Aunt  Hannah's  daughter  and  Aunt  Agibail  wint 
to  Stafford  hersilf." 

The  day  I  arrived  at  Stafford  Street  I  walked  from 
Hartford,  and  the  nearer  I  came  the  faster  I  walked. 
When  I  arrived  at  the  village  some  men  were  working 
on  the  road  and  in  answer  to  my  inquiry,  said :  "The 
widow  Abigail  Drake  lives  in  that  red  house,"  which 
they  pointed  out.  I  called  on  her  under  the  pretense 
of  buying  her  home,  and  staid  quite  a  while.  She  men- 
tioned some  of  the  best  families.  Deans,  Converses,  Rich- 
ardsons,  etc.,  but  I  could  not  find  out  who  had  the  boy 
until  I  spoke  of  the  church,  when  she  mentioned  that 
Deacon  Felker  had  adopted  a  boy  who  was  her  nephew. 
Then  I  asked  her  who  his  parents  were.  She  hesitated, 
and  then  said,  "His  father  and  mother  are  both  dead." 

"Were  you  acquainted  with  his  father?" 

"Yes,  I  was ;  he  was  a  man  about  your  build,  only 
when  I  saw  him  last  he  was  in  trouble,  and  pale  and  thin." 

"What  trouble?" 

"Trouble,"  she  replied  wiping  the  tears  away  with  her 
apron.  Then  coming  near  me  inquired  quizzically,  "What 
is  your  name?" 

I  saw  she  was  on  the  point  of  detecting  me.  and  look- 
ing straight  in  her  eye  I  answered,  "James  Hall." 

Again  she  hesitated  and  then  said,  "You  do  look  so 
much  like  James  Burroughs,  who  is  dead,  that  I  thought 


60  LOOKING    BACK 

the  dead  had  been  raised."  She  then  told  me  all  about 
father's  execution,  Fanny's  death  and  mine,  after  which 
I  walked  over  to  Deacon  Felker's. 

When  I  arrived,  there  was  no  one  in  but  the  deacon, 
so  I  struck  him  up  for  a  job.  Soon  I  saw  a  lady  coming 
up  the  walk  who  I  at  once  recognized  as  Cousin  Phoebe, 
whom  I  had  not  seen  for  fifteen  years.  Beside  her  ran 
a  little^  boy.  The  deacon  introduced  me,  and  in  shaking 
hands  I  squeezed  hers  so  hard  that  she  looked  up  quickly, 
then  presuming  me  to  be  very  rough,  she  spoke  pleas- 
antly. Then  I  picked  up  my  own  little  boy  and  as  in 
some  phantom  mirror,  Fanny  seemed  to  look  me  right  in 
the  face. 

While  waiting  for  tea,  Winnie  Richardson  came  in 
and  adroitly  introduced  herself  by  saying,  'T  presume 
our  town  looks  tame  to  you,  especially  if  you've  been 
living  in  the  city,  but  to  us  who  have  never  traveled 
Stafford  is  the  center  of  the  world." 

At  the  conclusion  of  Jim's  story  the  sweet  Winnie 
softly  caressed  the  troubled  man  with  her  arm  around  his 
neck,  and  here  we  leave  Winnie  and  Jim,  to  whirl  and 
swirl  in  their  frail  barques  of  life,  on  the  restless  waves 
of  time,  until  they  mysteriously  cross  the  bar  out  into  the 
unknown  ocean  of  Eternity,  from  whence,  if  they  return 
to  guide  our  thoughts,  we  do  not  comprehend  it. 


OUR    MOUNTAIN    HOME    NEAR    WABBAQUASSETT    LAKE,    BUILT    BY    WARREN 

RICHARDSON,     1832. 

PORTRAITS  OF  CHILDREN,    1870,    EXCEPT   AIARIETTE.     LEFT  TO  RIGHT.    ELIZA. 

ADELIA,    COLLINS.    CAROLINE,    MERRICK,    GORDON,    JANETTE. 


OUR  WABBAQUASSETT  MOUNTAIN  HOME 

John,  my  Grandfather  Richardson,  son  of  Uriah, 
built  his  home  on  the  east  side  of  the  Devil's  Hopyard, 
while  Abner,  one  of  John  Dimock's  ten  sons,  built  his 
home  on  the  west  side. 

John  Richardson  raised  a  family  of  boys,  John,  War- 
ren, Collins,  Marvin,  Orson,  and  one  girl,  Fanny,  while 
Abner  Dimock  raised  a  family  of  girls,  Lovey,  Manerva, 
Luna,  Hannah,  Arminia,  Abigail,  and  one  boy,  Abner. 

Warren  Richardson  crossed  the  Hopyard,  wooed  and 
won  Luna  Dimock,  and  they  built  their  nest  near  \A'ab- 
baquassett  Lake,  where  the  flowers  bloom  in  early  spring, 
wild  birds  awake  the  summer  morn  and  the  babbling 
brook  sings  through  the  winding  vale  below,  all  day  long. 

Here  they  raised  a  group  of  laughing,  frolicing,  romp- 
ing backwoods  mischief  and  their  names  were: 

Mariette  A. — Married  Frank  Slater. 

Eliza  L. — Married  Lucius  Kibbes. 

Adelia  A. — Married  Epaphro  Dimock. 

Caroline  C. — Married  Lucius  Aborn. 

Collins  W.— Married  Martha  Aborn. 

Merrick  A. — Married  Mary  Hoyt. 

Gordon   M. — Married  Amanda  Pitt. 

Janette  A. — Married  George  Newell. 

\\'abbaquassett  retained  its  virgin  bloom  of  nature 
long  after  the  surrounding  country  had  been  occupied 
by  white  invaders. 

61 


62  LOOKING    BACK 

Stafford,  Ellington,  Somers  and  Tolland  Streets  had 
become  self -centered,  while  the  sleeping  beauty,  Wab- 
baquassett,  was  held  by  the  Nipmunks  as  a  sort  of  ren- 
dezvous for  the  Pequods,  Mohegans,  Mohawks,  Narra- 
gansetts  and  several  other  tribes  who  were  roaming  over 
New  England,  stealing  fowls,  cattle  and  even  children, 
for  the  red  man  felt  that  the  brooks,  lakes  and  forests, 
together  with  all  they  contained,  virtually  belonged  to 
him. 

Wabbaquassett  of  old,  with  its  broad  sandy  shore, 
dreaming  in  the  protecting  arms  of  a  dense  forest  of  oak, 
pine,  chestnut  and  maple  giants  was  truly  the  gem  of 
New  England. 

When  the  Richardsons,  Dimocks,  Newells  and  Aborns 
began  their  encroachment  into  these  forests  the  Indians 
were  loath  to  leave  their  pow-wow  home  in  the  oak 
grove,  on  the  south  shore  of  the  lake,  for  the  American 
Indian  dreaded  the  law  more  than  the  tomahawk,  but 
the  following  instance  routed  them. 

A  buck  named  Wappa,  who  lived  on  the  shore,  south 
of  the  old  West  Rock,  killed  his  squaw,  Dianah,  for  which 
he  was  tried  at  Tolland  Street  and  hanged.  On  the  gal- 
lows he  saw  Captain  Abner  Dimock,  my  mother's  father, 
among  the  spectators  and  called  for  him  to  come  on  the 
gallows  and  pray  for  him. 

My  father  and  mother  were  in  the  crowd  and  when 
the  sheriff  asked  the  Indian  if  he  was  ready,  mother 
fainted.  The  execution  took  place  August  22,  1816,  after 
which  the  Indians  left  Wabbaquassett  and  never  returned. 

In  those  days,  Wabbaquassett,  since  called  Square 
Pond,  and  now  Crystal  Lake,  was  the  nucleus  of  four 
prominent  families,  Dimocks,  Richardsons,  Newells  and 
Aborns. 


LOOKING    BACK 


63 


The  group  consisted  of  the  following  families 
Abner  Dimock  Anson  Newell 

Orwell  Dimock  Armherst  Newell 

Ephraim  Dimock  Charles  Newell 

Lorain  Dimock  Ezekiel  Newell 

Sexton  Dimock  Ephraim  Newell 


Warren  Richardson 
Orson  Richardson 
Marvin  Richardson 
John  Richardson 
Royal  Richardson 


Lucius  Aborn 
Parkel  Aborn 
Morton  Aborn 
Gilbert  Aborn 
Jedediah  Aborn 


Of  these  twenty  families  in  1850  I  now  find,  at  the 
Lake,  only  one  descendant,  A.  M.  Richardson,  son  of  my 
brother,  Collins,  who  with  his  interesting  wife,  Bessie, 
actually  holds  the  fort  alone. 


WOODCHUCK  IN  THE  WALL 

Recently  when  my  son  Arthur  and  myself  with  our 
families  were  touring  with  automobile  over  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  up  the  sea-shore,  and  over  the  Green  Moun- 
tains, we  spent  several  days  at  the  Lake,  with  many  old- 
timers  who  came  to  meet  us,  when  they  coaxed  me  to  tell 
the  woodchuck  story,  which  ran  as  follows :  Bow-wow- 
wow  is  heard  on  the  hillside  across  the  little  meadow  from 
our  old  farm  house.  We  boys,  Gordon  and  I,  drop  our 
hoes  and  run,  for  we  knew  by  the  sound  that  old  Skip 
had  a  woodchuck  in  the  wall  and  wanted  us  to  come  and 
get  him  out. 

"Hold  on,  Gordon,"  said  I,  "now  is  the  time  for  us 
to  give  our  Towser  a  chance." 

Towser  was  a  young  bull  terrier,  we  boys  had  bought 
of  Holmes,  who  had  recommended  him  to  be  able  to 
catch  the  largest  ox  by  the  nose  and  hold  him,  or  catch 
a  hog  by  the  ear  and  hold  the  hog,  or  off  would  come  the 
ear,  and  as  for  woodchucks,  he  would  pick  them  up  as  a 
hen  would  pick  up  kernels  of  corn. 

Our  Towser,  as  we  boys  called  him,  was  at  once  un- 
chained and  we  were  off  to  the  pasture  on  the  hillside, 
whcx-e  in  days  gone  by,  old  Skip  had  captured  so  many 
woodchucks. 

As  we  ran  along,  the  conversation  ran  thus : 

"Hey-hey,  Towser,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Woodchuck  don't 
know  that  you're  coming ;  he  thinks  it  is  old  Skip,  but 
when  he  sees  you,  he  will  know  that  he's  got  to  die." 
64 


LOOKING    BACK  65 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Gordon,  "when  he  gets  those  great 
white  teeth  on  to  him,  won't  the  blood  fly?  I  hope  he 
won't  swallow  him  whole,  for  we  want  his  hide  to  make 
shoe  strings." 

"You  bet,"  said  I.  Then  patting  the  dog  on  the  head, 
I  continued :  "Won't  old  Skip  be  ashamed  when  he  sees 
you,  Towser?" 

Skip  was  a  little  brindle  cur  who  had  watched  the 
whole  farm  night  and  day  for  ten  years.  He  would  never 
worry  the  cat  or  chase  the  chickens,  but  would  speak,  roll 
over,  sit  up,  or  play  he  was  dead,  to  please  us  boys.  He 
could  hustle  the  cattle  out  of  the  corn,  keep  the  pigs  from 
the  door  and  had  kept  all  the  rabbits  and  woodchucks 
away  from  the  garden.  In  fact,  he  was  a  friend  to  every- 
one except  Towser.     Of  course,  he  was  jealous  of  him. 

\Mien  we  boys  arrived  on  the  scene,  we  found  old 
Skip  bounding  over  the  wall  back  and  forth,  barking, 
squealing,  pawing  and  biting  off  roots  in  his  great  excite- 
ment, while  the  woodchuck  was  chattering,  whistling  and 
snapping  his  teeth  in  great  shape. 

"Oh,  look  here,  Gordon,"  said  I,  as  I  peeped  into 
the  wall,  "He  is  as  big  as  two  tomcats ;  it  must  be  the 
one  father  said  had  been  nibbling  all  our  green  pumpkins." 

"Yes,  yes,"  says  Gordon,  "Pa  said  Skip  has  been  try- 
ing to  get  between  him  and  his  hole  all  summer,  and  now 
our  Towser  has  got  him  at  last.  Say,  Merrick,  don't  you 
think  we  had  better  let  Skip  kill  him.  I'm  afraid  that 
Towser  will  tear  him  all  to  flitters  and  we  won't  have 
his  hide  left." 

Now  there  was  a  terrible  yelping  and  we  discovered 
that  the  big  bulldog  was  shaking  little  Skip  unmercifully. 
We  clubbed  him  off,  and  tried  to  drive  Skip  home,  as,  of 
course,  we  would  not  need  him  any  more,  but  he  would 


66  LOOKING    BACK 

not  go,  so  we  tied  him  to  a  white  birch  tree  with  Towser's 
chain  and  continued  tearing  down  the  wall. 

Gordon's  countenance  took  on  a  sort  of  a  funeral 
aspect  as  he  said,  "Now,  Mr.  Woodchuck,  you  have  got 
to  die." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  as  I  jammed  my  dirty  thumb  into  my 
mouth  to  keep  from  weeping,  "My  heart  aches  for  him, 
but  it  has  got  to  be  done." 

Towser  was  anxious  to  get  at  the  woodchuck.  Every- 
time  we  boys  rolled  off  a  stone,  he  would  jam  his  head 
into  the  wall,  so  anxious  was  he  to  get  at  his  prey,  while 
poor  little  Skip,  who  should  have  had  the  honor,  was  up 
under  the  white  birch  tree  trying  to  break  the  chain  and 
come  down  and  help,  not  even  minding  his  bleeding  ear, 
where  Towser  had  bit  him. 

At  last  the  right  stone  was  removed  and  the  unfor- 
tunate old  woodchuck  could  do  no  better  than  face  grim 
death,  and  he  did  it  bravely.  Standing  on  his  little  hind 
legs,  with  his  front  paws  extended,  he  chattered  defiance, 
while  snapping  his  white  teeth  and  awaiting  the  onslaught. 

Towser  plunged  into  the  wall  and  out  came  the  wood- 
chuck, but  to  our  surprise,  Towser  had  not  got  the  wood- 
chuck, but  the  woodchuck  had  Towser  right  by  the  nose. 

Over  and  over  they  rolled  as  the  blood  squirted  from 
the  dog's  nose,  each  sommersault  working  them  farther 
and  farther  down  the  swale  in  the  direction  of  the  wood- 
chuck's  hole.  Towser  roared,  bellowed  and  squealed, 
but  the  woodchuck  would  not  let  go  his  lucky  hold. 

We  boys  saw  the  danger  of  escape  and  I,  seizing  a 
club,  started  on  to  help  Towser,  while  Gordon  ran  to 
unchain  Skip,  as  it  began  to  look  now  as  if  old  Skip's 
help  might  be  necessary  after  all. 

The  clever  old  woodchuck,  who  was  watching  to  take 


LOOKING    BACK  67 

advantage  of  the  first  favorable  opportunity,  when  he  saw- 
Skip  coming,  let  go  his  grip  and  started  for  his  hole. 
Towser,  who  was  also  figuring  for  his  own  personal 
safety,  when  released,  curled  his  tail  between  his  legs 
and  started  for  home,  crying  "ki-yi-yi-yi." 

Skip  bounded  forward  just  in  time  to  seize  his  wood- 
chuckship  by  the  tail,  just  as  he  was  entering  the  hole. 
Now  a  desperate  struggle  ensued,  the  woodchuck  trying 
to  pull  the  dog  into  the  hole  and  the  dog  trying  to  pull 
the  woodchuck  out. 

Skip  was  losing  ground,  when,  seizing  him  by  the 
hind  legs,  I  planted  my  bare  feet  in  the  gravel  and  pulled 
with  all  my  might.  The  woodchuck  chattered  and 
squealed,  the  dog  shook  and  growled,  as  I  pulled  them 
out,  when  the  tail  broke,  he  darted  into  the  hole,  and  the 
game  was  lost. 

Then  we  boys  took  Skip  up  to  the  spring  and  washed 
his  poor  bleeding  ear  and  promised  him  right  then  and 
there  that  we  would  take  Towser  back  to  Mr.  Holmes 
and  that  he,  Skip,  might  run  the  farm  as  long  as  he 
lived. 

Lemuel  Warner  followed  up  the  woodchuck  story  by 
acting  out,  in  his  genial  manner,  the  stuttering  man  trying 
to  testify  in  prayer-meeting.  Orino  Richardson  and 
Perlin  Richardson  came  in  with  their  extremely  ridicu- 
lous tales,  followed  by  hymns  and  old  plantation  songs. 

In  all  this  we  seemed  to  forget  ourselves,  with  the 
fifty  years  of  ups  and  down  on  Life's  tempestuous  waves, 
and  in  friendly  glee  we  were  back  again  in  that  fair 
morning,  dreamily  anticipating  Life's  strange  journey,  so 
unlike  the  reality  fond  memory  now  reveals. 

Together  we  all  visited  the  cemeteries  on  the  hill  at 
the  north,  where  the  rippling  waves  of  old  Wabbaquas- 


68  LOOKING   BACK 

sett  click  along  the  shore  so  near  the  feet  of  those  whose 
voices  we  do  not  hear,  but  whose  sweet  smiles  seem  to 
reflect  back  to  us  their  beauty  as  our  earthly  vision  grows 
dim. 

Soon  the  stranger  will  pause  to  read  and  say :  "Who 
were  all  these  Richardsons,  Newells,  Aborns  and  Dim- 
ocks  ?"  In  the  silence  reason  seems  to  whisper :  They 
came  forth  in  the  dawn;  enjoyed  a  brief  day;  and  re- 
turned to  the  silence  of  an  endless  Eternity. 
"Now  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 

When  fond  recollections  present  them  to  view ; 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wildwood, 

And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew. 
The  wide-spreading  Pond,  and  the  Mill  that  stood  by  it, 

The  Bridge  and  the  Rock  where  the  cataract  fell; 
The  Cot  of  my  Father,  the  dairy-house  nigh  it, 

And  e'en  the  rude  Bucket  which  hung  in  the  Well." 


SUNDAY  AIORNING 

Father  and  mother  did  not  marry  until  their  home 
had  been  estabHshed,  but  they  lost  no  time  when  they 
got  started,  for,  thirteen  years  gave  them  a  brood  of 
eight  children. 

Father  was  a  shrewd  dealer  in  land  and  cattle,  through 
which  he  gained  enough  to  purchase  about  350  acres  of 
wild  land  and  built  a  house  and  barn,  while  mother,  as 
was  customary  for  New  England  women,  braided  palm 
leaf  hats  for  the  slaves  of  the  Southern  planters,  until 
she  had  saved  enough  to  furnish  the  house.  Then  they 
got  married. 

Our  living  room  was  the  big  kitchen,  where  we 
warmed  ourselves  by  the  old-fashioned  fireplace  while  the 
pots  and  kettles  hung  on  the  crane  before  us.  Beside  it 
was  a  brick  oven,  where  mother  baked  the  good  things, 
especially  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  when  we  did  not  fill  up 
with  old  common  potatoes. 

The  parlor,  which  we  were  seldom  allowed  to  enter, 
was  to  a  little  boy  dazzling.  Looking-glass,  with  gilded 
frame,  paper  of  many  colors,  and  high-shining  brass 
andirons  in  the  fireplace. 

Sunday  morning  we  all  gathered  there  for  family 
worship  and  one  morning  father  gave  us  a  lesson  on 
"Inspiration,"  which  has  nerved  me  up  to  fight  infidelity 
all  my  days. 

He  had  quite  a  collection  of  books  and  one  day  he 
69 


70  LOOKING    BACK 

brought  home  a  book  on  geology,  from  which,  after  study- 
ing it  evenings,  he  declared  that  the  creation  of  the 
world  in  science  and  the  Bible  exactly  agreed. 

That  lesson  and  the  surroundings  on  that  sunny 
Sabath  morning  is  one  of  the  old  landmarks  in  my  mem- 
ory to  which  I  often  return  in  moments  of  reflection. 

"Now  children,"  he  began,  "no  one  knows  who  wrote 
the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  which  appears  to  have  no 
connection  with  the  other  chapters.  It  may  have  been 
written  by  Moses,  his  sister,  Miriam,  or  some  ether  per- 
son along  about  that  time,  say  four  or  five  thousand  years 
ago.  The  strange  thing  about  it  is  that,  according  to 
their  new  geology,  the  writer  revealed  the  secrets  of 
that  which  transpired  millions  of  years  ago. 

"People  had  supposed,  until  about  one  hundred  years 
ago,  that  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  was  a  fable,  or 
fairy  tale,  but  now  geology  proves  it  to  have  been  a  true 
history  of  what  the  writer  knew  nothing  about. 

"It  must  have  been  that  an  angel  who  had  lived  all 
through  the  time  the  world  was  being  made,  sat  right 
beside  or  in  some  way  influenced  the  author  to  write  the 
wonderful  story  of  the  creation.  This  is  what  I  call  real 
inspiration,  don't  you? 

"Some  folks  think,  and  I  would  not  wonder  if  it  might 
be  true,  that  fiction  is  a  faint  glimmer  of  inspiration, 
and  that  composers  are  often  led  along  by  the  spirit  of 
some  person  who  once  lived  in  this  world.  Let  this  be 
as  it  may,  I  wish  one  of  you  children  might  become  a 
novelist,  but  you  never  will,  you  will  be  farmers  just  like 
all  us  New  England  mountaineers. 

"Learned  men  have  discovered,  by  digging  in  the 
rocky  surface  of  the  earth,  that  under  certain  conditions, 
oysters  or  other  animals,  will  turn  to  stone.     They  call 


LOOKING    BACK  71 

them  fossils.  Scientists  have  also  learned  that  each  l>ind, 
wherever  found,  represents  the  age  in  which  the  animal 
lived.  So,  the  fossil,  you  see,  is  an  animal  which  died 
and  turned  to  stone,  perhaps  millions  of  years  ago. 

"By  investigation  they  find  that  one  kind  of  rock, 
called  azoic,  contains  no  fossils,  so  they  know  there  was 
a  day  or  age  when  there  was  no  life  in  this  world,  and 
this  is  the  first  day  in  the  Bible,  which  I  have  been  reading 
to  you. 

FIRST    DAY 

"They  find  by  the  conglomerate  condition  of  the 
azoic  rock  that  after  the  gaseous  confusion  of  the  ele- 
ments had  subsided,  it  sort  of  settled  into  one  boiling  mass 
of  mixed  elements.  Then  the  heavier  elements,  gold, 
mercury,  lead  and  the  like,  condensed  and  formed  a 
center  of  attraction,  while  the  more  rare  elements,  such 
as  oxygen,  hydrogen  and  nitrogen,  formed  a  floating  band 
around  it,  then,  as  the  Bible  states,  darkness  must  have 
been  upon  the  face  of  the  deep  until  the  lighter  elements 
rarefied,  when  the  sun  would  feebly  penetrate  in  the 
daytime  and  the  rotation  of  the  world  would  make  it  cor- 
respond to  the  first  day  and  night  of  the  Bible. 

SECOND   DAY 

"This  day,  in  which  the  firmament  was  formed,  is 
wonderful  in  that  it  was  preparation  for  the  day  when 
the  land  should  appear,  as  it  would  need  rain  to  make 
the  vegetation  grow.  Man's  highest  imagination  cannot 
grasp  or  conceive  the  wonders  of  this  strange  scheme.  It 
really  meant  condensing  part  of  the  water  to  become 
liquid,  or  seas,  and  raising  part  to  become  clouds,  or  rain, 


72  LOOKING    BACK 

as  we  now  find  them.     So  again  the  two  accounts  agree 
as  to  the  second  day. 

THIRD   DAY 

"Seas  and  land  appear.  This  Bible  account  exactly 
agrees  with  the  carboniferous  and  crustacean  births  which 
followed  on  through  the  ages,  when  vegetation  grew  in 
such  abundance  that  its  decay,  when  submerged  by  erup- 
tions, laid  the  foundations  for  our  coal  and  oil  fields. 

FOURTH    DAY 

"While  the  former  days  occupied  millions  of  years 
each,  this  day  was  not  a  duration  of  time,  not  even  one 
moment.  It  was  simply  an  illustration  of  the  then  pres- 
ent conditions.  Had  we  been  on  earth  at  that  time  we 
would  have  seen  all  the  heavenly  bodies  and  their  move- 
ments just  as  this  Bible  account  describes,  and  as  we 
see  them  now. 

FIFTH    DAY 

"As  the  fourth  Bible  day  did  not  include  time  to 
produce  geological  changes,  the  two  ages  divonian,  or 
fish,  and  amphibious,  or  reptilian,  ages  exactly  fit  in  to 
make  up  the  fifth  day. 

"Could  we  have  visited  the  earth  when  it  first  became 
solid  with  the  sea  floating  over  it,  we  would  have  seen 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  animals  of  the  oyster  family 
beginning  to  live  in  their  shells,  which  later  they  took 
up  and  carried  around  on  their  backs,  and  now  we  call 
them  turtles.  We  know  they  were  there,  for  they  are 
still   sleeping   in   their   little   stone   cofiins   on   mountain 


LOOKING    BACK  73 

tops,  which  God  raised  up  when  He  made  dry  land.  God 
called  them  all  moving  creatures,  which  have  life,  which, 
of  course,  included  fish  and  frogs. 

"Now  hark,  I  will  read  the  twentieth  verse  over  again. 
There  now,  you  see  God  did  not  make  the  birds  up  in 
the  mountains  and  tell  them  to  fly.  He  made  them  in 
the  water,  I  guess  He  fixed  legs  where  the  fins  were, 
so  they  could  hop  and  crawl,  and  then  fixed  wings  where 
the  legs  were,  so  they  could  fly,  and  this  exactly  corre- 
sponds to  the  reptilian  age  in  geology.  That  transforma- 
tion must  have  made  even  God  stop  and  think,  for  it 
took  millions  of  years.  Many  kinds  came  out  of  the 
water,  so  you  see  we  have  many  kinds  of  birds  on  the 
land.  Some  of  them  were  awfully  large.  One,  geologists 
call  the  Pterodactyl,  had  a  mouth  and  teeth  like  a  horse, 
tail  like  a  fish  or  snake,  and  wings  which  he  could  spread 
more  than  twenty-five  feet.  I  imagine  it  flew  from  shore 
to  shore  catching  turtles  for  breakfast,  who  were  out 
on  the  sand  laying  eggs  as  big  as  our  old  peck  measure. 

SIXTH    DAY 

"God  made  cattle  and  all  other  big  walking  things, 
and  all  the  creeping  things. 

"The  family  of  largest  animals  are  called  Dinosaur. 
Their  fossil  bones  are  found  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
They  must  have  lived  there  on  the  plains  before  the 
upheavel  of  the  mountains.  Some  of  them  were  about 
one  hundred  feet  long  and  twenty-five  feet  high.  In 
New  Jersey,  geologists  have  dug  up  the  fossil  bones  of 
an  animal  they  call  the  Iguanodon,  a  sort  of  frog  with  a 
snake  tail ;  when  he  sat  up  his  head  was  about  thirty  feet 
high.     Had  he  lived  on  men  he  would  have  eaten  three 


74  LOOKING    BACK 

for  dinner.  It  seems  that  when  those  animals  raised 
up  on  all  four,  like  elephants,  they  lost  their  fish-like 
tails,  except  to  use  as  fly  whiskers.  Those  animals  lived 
all  through  what  is  called  the  mammalian  age  in  geology, 
or  the  sixth  day  in  the  Bible. 

"Now,  children,  this  twenty-fifth  verse  ends  up  the 
creation  of  the  world  and  all  its  animals.  Then  God 
called  a  halt  and  said,  'Let  us  make  something  special.' 
What  was  it?"  "Man,  man,"  we  said.  "What  was  man 
to  be  like?"     "Just  like  God  himself." 

"Is  God  an  animal?" 

"No." 

"What  is  He?" 

"Nobody  knows." 

"Think  again,  what  did  I  read  last  Sunday  about 
Christ  at  Jacob's  well  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  God  is  a  spirit." 

"Then  is  man  a  spirit  or  an  animal  ?" 

"Both,"   I   said. 

"How  so,  Merrick?" 

"Why,  God  made  she-male  man  and  he-male  man 
of  dirt,  so  they  could  have  a  lot  of  children.  Then  the 
image  man,  we  cannot  see,  who  was  to  do  the  thinking, 
was  to  have  dominion,  that  means  it  was  to  boss  them- 
selves and  everything  else  around.  That  is  the  man  that 
goes  to  Heaven  when  he  dies." 

"How  is  that,  Luna,  for  a  boy  of  eight  years  old?"  he 
said  to  mother. 

"You  are  all  right,  Merrick,"  she  said,  drawing  me 
to  her  for  a  kiss.  "Now,  you  must  try  to  govern  your- 
self and  not  be  so  stubborn,  even  if  you  do  think  you 
are  in  the  right.     Let  wisdom  instead  of  spunk  be  your 


LOOKING    BACK  75 

guide,  and  then  the  angels  will  be  with  you  in  your  dreams 
and  our  pretty  school-ma'am  will  not  have  to  switch  you 
so  often." 

"Pretty    school-ma'am,    eh !      Why,    she    walks    just 
exactly  like  a  cow." 


HUSKING  BEE 

One  of  my  earliest  recollections  is  of  hearing  mother 
telling  a  neighbor  housewife  about  the  prayer  meeting 
up  at  Uncle  Sam's.  Mother  was  a  great  tease,  and  to 
see  her  act  out  Aunt  Lovey  in  this  particular  case  was 
enough  to  make  the  bushes  laugh. 

In  order  to  picture  the  scene  at  the  prayer  meeting, 
I  will  give  one  of  mother's  escapades  by  the  way  of  con- 
trast between  Lovey,  Uncle  Sam's  wife,  and  her  wide- 
awake sisters,  of  which  mother  was  accused  of  being 
the  ring  leader  in  many  daring  acts.  Therefore,  I  will 
begin  with  the  story  of  the  husking  bee  at  Grandfather 
Dimock's  home,  when  mother  was  a  girl. 

At  a  husking  in  those  days  all  in  the  neighborhood 
would  gather,  not  so  much,  I  imagine,  to  husk  corn  as 
for  the  frolic,  and  the  good  things  they  had  to  eat. 

The  custom  was  to  set  the  shocks  of  corn  around  a 
large  circle  and  all  husk  from  the  outside.  Then  if  a 
lady  found  a  red  ear  she  was  privileged,  if  she  dare, 
to  throw  it  across  a  space  at  a  man  whom,  if  she  hit, 
was  privileged  to  chase  her  around  the  outer  ring,  for 
which  if  he  caught  her  while  on  the  circuit  he  could 
kiss  her. 

Well,  mother  found  a  red  ear  and  she  threw  it  at 
the  minister,  hitting  him,  whack !  side  of  the  head.  His 
name  was  Frink,  a  real  minister  of  the  Gospel,  yet 
he  could  not  allow  such  an  opportunity  to  escape,  so  he 
dropped  his  dignity  and  started, 
/o 


LOOKING    BACK  77 

The  arranged  plan  was  that  all  should  get  out  of 
the  way  to  give  the  lady  a  chance  to  run,  while  the  real 
plan  was  for  all  to  stumble  into  the  way  and  see  the  fun." 

Mother,  finding  it  impossible  to  break  through,  turned 
quickly  and  lit  out  for  the  orchard.  This  bold  but  admir- 
able act  caused  200  buskers  to  raise  on  tip-toe,  for  it  was 
a  pretty  scene  in  the  moonlight  to  see  the  daring  maid, 
clad  in  a  pretty  white  frock,  dodging  among  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  apple  trees,  evading  the  terrific  lunges 
of  her  eager  pursuer,  whose  physiognomy  took  on  a 
strange  earnestness  which  betokened  his  consideration 
that  the  prize  was  worth  striving  for. 

When  the  girl,  by  artful  dodging,  escaped  and  struck 
out  for  home,  old  Jasiah  Bradley,  forgetting  his  80  years, 
roared  out,  "Stand  back !  Stand  back !  Give  the  girl  a 
chance,"  at  which  two  rows  cjuickly  formed,  giving  the 
gfrl,  whose  knee  action  betokened  great  speed,  a  clear  way 
until  as  she  crossed  the  line,  Frink  extended  his  hand  to 
grab,  but  did  not  catch  her. 

This  illustration  represents  the  innocent  dare  of  the 
family  to  which  mother  belonged,  except  the  oldest. 
Lovey,  who  was  very  sedate,  and  in  this  case  said  that 
Luna  ought  to  be  spanked  and  put  to  bed.  Lovey  wore 
her  skirts  very  long  and  would  walk  way  around  to 
pass  through  the  gate,  while  her  astonishing  sisters  would 
jump  or  climb  over  the  fence  and  whistle  just  like  boys. 


PRAYER  MEETING  AT  UNCLE  SAM'S 

Lovey  married  Samuel  Harwood.  They  built  their 
home  on  Chestnut  Hill,  where  they  raised  a  fine  family. 
Monroe  was  their  youngest  son,  who  figured  very 
seriously  in  the  catastrophy  I  am  about  to  relate. 

Uncle  Sam  and  Aunt  Lovey  were  both  strictly  re- 
ligious, but  did  not  agree  as  to  the  mode  of  proceedure. 
She  threw  her  whole  religious  weight  on  the  sixth  verse 
of  the  sixth  chapter  of  Matthew,  while  he  was  a  roaring 
Methodist.  Together  they  attended  church  on  Sunday, 
but  Lovey  never  attended  the  weekly  home  prayer  meet- 
ings, neither  would  she  allow  the  church  to  have  one 
at  her  home,  and  so  they  worshiped  for  years  until  Sam's 
grey  locks  and  the  children's  clamor  induced  her  to  try 
it  just  once.  Such  an  unusual  event  caused  the  whole 
church  to  turn  out  in  mass  for  a  real  good  spiritual 
uplifting. 

Their  house,  which  my  wife  and  I  rode  by  last  time 
we  were  in  Connecticut,  is  of  the  old  dominion  style. 
Kitchen,  dining  and  living  rooms  all  in  one,  and  very 
commodious.  Under  the  stairs  to  the  second  story  were 
the  stairs  to  the  deep,  dark  cellar  below,  of  which  there 
was  no  broad  stair  at  the  top,  and  the  cellar  door  opened 
into  the  cellar. 

On  that  memorable  evening  the  room  was  crammed 

to  suffocation  when  the  meeting  opened  with  the  hymn, 

"On   Jordan's    Stormy    Banks    I    Stand."      Then   Abner 

Dimock,  who  always  prayed  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  a 

78 


LOOKING    BACK  79 

mile,  and  several  others,  led  in  prayer,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  inspiring  testimonials,  to  all  of  which  Uncle 
Sam  chimed  in  Amen,  amid  the  shouts  of  halleluiah, 
while  Aunt  Lovey  sat  in  dreamy  silence,  with  her  nose 
turned  just  a  trifle  askance. 

The  pinnacle  was  reached  when  Anise  Ladd  arose 
to  testify,  for  every  one  knew  Anise  poured  forth  her 
feelings  without  reserve. 

"I,"  she  began,  "was  born  peevish  and  as  my  neigh- 
bors can  here  testify,  was,  to  say  the  least,  irritable 
through  my  maiden  and  middlehood  earthly  career,  but 
last  winter  at  our  revival  meetings,  I  experienced  a 
genuine  halleluiah  wave  of  godliness,  and  now  I  coo 
like  a  turtle  dove  and  fret  or  scold  no  more." 

To  Uncle  Sam,  who  was  tipping  back  in  his  chair, 
this  wonderful  halleluiah  testimony  so  coincided  with 
his  desires  toward  Lovey,  that  he  shouted,  "Glory  to 
God,"  as  in  the  expansion  of  his  joy  he  lost  his  balance, 
his  chair  striking  the  cellar  door,  which  flew  open,  caus- 
ing him,  still  in  the  chair,  to  start,  head  downwards,  on 
his  perilous  journey  into  the  dismal  region  below.  He 
did  not  swear,  neither  did  he  shout  halleluiah,  but  fresh 
grunts  followed  in  rapid  succession  as  he  pounded  from 
stair  to  stair. 

During  the  excitement  all  trying  with  lighted  tallow 
candles  to  ascertain  if  he  was  still  alive,  his  son,  Monroe, 
continued  roaring  and  laughing  until  some  one  said, 
"Why,  Monroe,  it  might  have  killed  your  father,"  to 
which  he  replied  between  spasms,  "I  should  have  laughed 
just  the  same,  if  I  had  known  it  had  killed  him." 

During  the  excitement  Aunt  Lovey  pressed  her  hand 
to  her  heart,  but  did  not  speak  until  urged  by  the  pastor, 
when  she  said :     "Well,  really,  you  were  all  talking  so 


80  LOOKING    BACK 

much  about  going  to  heaven  that  when  I  witnessed  Sam- 
uel's sudden  departure,  I  wondered,  yes,  I  really  won- 
dered, whether  my  halleluiah  husband  had  started  for 
heaven  or  for  the  other  place." 

Uncle  Sam  survived  and  lived  on  the  old  place  until 
he  was  94  years  old,  but  that  was  the  first  and  last  prayer 
meeting  up  to  Uncle  Sam's. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 

Oh,  those  golden  days  when  with  indulgent  parents 
we  gathered  around  the  table  of  plenty.  There  we 
romped  in  the  orchards,  woods  and  meadows,  among 
the  wild  flowers  and  through  the  shady  dells,  where 
we  chased  the  rabbits  and  squirrels,  hunting  the  shy 
nests  of  birds,  watching  the  pretty  fish  in  the  crystal 
stream,  as  they  darted  about  showing  their  silver  sides. 
The  side  hills  teemed  with  wild  fruit,  shadberries,  check- 
erberries,  cherries,  grapes,  strawberries,  etc.  Wild  birds 
were  in  abundance  and  their  songs  were  gay;  I  think 
I  hear  them  now.  Father  taught  us  that  we  must  not 
destroy  the  nests  of  crows,  hawks  or  other  bad  birds, 
not  even  the  homes  of  the  mischievous  woodchucks,  who 
nibbled  our  pumpkins.  He  said,  "Let  them  bring  up 
their  little  families.  God  provides  room  and  food  for 
all." 

When  we  brought  the  little  blue  eggs  in  for  mother 
to  see,  she  would  kiss  and  hurry  us  back  with  them  to  the 
nest,  for  she  said  the  mother  bird's  heart  would  ache 
if  we  broke  one  of  her  little  eggs. 

And  yet,  after  all,  my  brother,  Gordon,  and  myself 
were  not  real  neighborhood  pets,  for  the  two  little  sun- 
burned blondes  were  net  as  innocent  as  they  looked. 
Aunt  Becky  Bragg,  our  second-door  neighbor,  was  quoted 
as  saying  that  Warren  Richardson's  two  little  white- 
headed  urchins  were  the  bane  of  her  life,  and  all  attempts 
to  chide  them  seemed  only  to  add  fuel  to  the  flames. 
81 


82  LOOKING    BACK 

We  must  have  been  useful  about  the  farm,  in  teaching 
the  chickens  and  cats  to  swim  and  the  colts  and  steers  to 
let  us  ride  them,  who  occasionally  dumped  us  where  we 
least  expected.  One  lively  pastime  was  to  tie  a  tin  pan 
to  one  of  the  sleepy  old  cattle's  tail,  and  watch  him  bound 
over  the  bushes  to  clear  himself  from  what  seemed  to  be 
following  him.  I  can  now  see  these  great  gentle  creatures 
with  half -closed  eyes  chewing  their  cuds,  while  father 
was  around  them,  but  when  we  appeared,  they  would 
stop  chewing,  bulge  out  their  eyes  and  make  ready  to 
jump  over  the  wall  at  our  first  gesture. 

Still  we  had  our  confiding  pets,  hens,  lambs  and  even 
pigs.  We  had  a  curly-haired  pig  which  would  follow 
us  around  and  lie  down  for  us  to  scratch  him,  and  as 
for  dogs — why,  old  Major,  the  neighborhood  tramp  of 
suspicious  character,  stood  in  well  with  us  and  licked 
our  hands  and  faces  as  we  fed  and  gave  him  a  warm 
shelter  from  the  cold  night. 

Father  and  mother  understood  it  all,  I  know  they 
did,  but  they  realized  how  we  would  soon  be  out  in  the 
hand-to-hand  conflict  of  life,  and  they  wanted  us  to  look 
back  to  our  childhood  mountain  home  with  gladness  and 
not  pain. 

I  was  exceedingly  stubborn  and  moderately  truthful, 
so  much  so  that  one  of  the  first  remembrances  of  my 
life  was  that  in  some  mysterious  way  I  had  acquired  the 
nick-name  of  Old  Honesty.  Oh,  it  did  make  me  so  mad 
to  be  called  that,  for  I  must  have  considered  it  a  sort 
of  defamation  of  character. 


THE  WILD  SEXTON  STEER 

One  day  in  the  spring  of  1855,  when  all  the  folks 
were  away  except  Gordon  and  myself,  we  felt  somewhat 
elated  that  we  were  running  the  farm  on  our  own  hook, 
so  we  conjured  up  a  little  fun. 

Our  long  barnyard  opened  with  bars  towards  the 
house  across  the  center  to  separate  the  cattle  from  the 
sheep.  Here,  just  for  sport,  when  no  one  was  around, 
we  would  put  up  two  or  three  bars  and  then  chase  the 
cattle,  one  by  one,  and  see  them  jump  over. 

We  had  a  fercious  wild  steer,  we  called  Sexton,  which 
would  jump  over  almost  anything  to  get  away  from  us 
boys,  so  he  was  usually  our  victim  for  sport. 

Father  was  accustomed,  each  fall,  to  bring  muck 
into  the  barnyard,  which  through  the  winter  was  cov- 
ered with  cornstalks,  straw  and  manure  from  the  stables, 
which  the  cattle  would  tread  in  during  the  rainy  spring 
and  mix  it  ready  for  the  land.  On  this  occasion  it  had 
been  raining,  and  the  mixture,  soft  as  jelly,  was  about  a 
foot  deep,  with  the  exception  of  a  dry  spot  by  the  house 
bars. 

Our  custom  was  to  teach  all  the  newcomers  into 
our  ranch,  or  farm,  to  carry  us  on  their  backs,  and  as 
the  bushes  hung  low  in  the  pastures  and  the  steers  had 
no  manes  to  cling  to,  we  often  got  dumped,  but  we  did 
not  care  for  scratches  and  bruises,  for  I  boasted  to  be 
able  to  hang  to  a  frightened  steer's  tail  through  a  bush 
pasture  longer  than  any  boy  in  the  neighborhood. 
83 


84  LOOKING    BACK 

On  this  occasion  the  wild  Sexton  steer  was  in  the 
yard — a  big  black  fellow,  who  was  so  mean  that  he  would 
kick  the  boards  off  the  barn,  just  if  we  tickled  him  wnth 
the  tines  of  a  pitchfork.  Really,  he  was  so  unruly  that 
he  had  no  respect  for  the  other  cattle,  or  even  a  ten-rail 
fence,  when  Gordon  and  I,  with  the  dog,  got  after  him. 

Forgetting  we  were  going  to  prayer  meeting  that 
evening,  and  that  we  had  already  put  on  our  Sunday 
clothes,  I  said  to  Gordon: 

"I  think  now  is  a  good  time  to  teach  old  Sexton  to 
let  us  ride  him." 

"Oh,  Merrick,  don't  try  that  again,  he  will  kill  you." 

"Nonsense,  I'm  not  afraid;  if  he  throws  me  off,  I 
will  land  on  my  feet." 

"You  may  and  you  may  not;  see  how  black  his  eyes 
are ;  let  us  take  our  bows  and  arrows  and  go  and  shoot 
at  Kendel's  cats.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendel  went  to  Som- 
mers  today,  so  there  is  no  one  at  home  but  Grandpa  Bragg 
and  he  cannot  see  well  enough  to  tell  whether  it  is  us 
or  the  \\  ires'  boys." 

"Never  mind  the  cats,  Gordon,"  I  said  as  I  stripped 
off  my  coat  in  a  real  businesslike  manner,  "I  am  dying 
for  a  ride  on  that  steer.  Come  and  help  me  catch  him. 
There,  that's  right,  now  we  have  him,  so,  bossy — so, 
bossy — so-so-bossy,  so.     Look  out,  there,   Gordon !" 

"Merrick,  I  told  you  we  could  not  catch  him." 

"It  was  because  you  was  so  slow.  Now  you  come  and 
stand  on  this  dry  spot  and  when  I  chase  him  around, 
stop  him,  and  I  will  creep  up — there,  that  is  better — so- 
bossy-so." 

"There  he  goes  again.  What  did  I  tell  you,  Merrick  ? 
I  said  we  could  not  catch  him." 

"Oh,  that  is  because  you  are  so  slow.     Now,  when  I 


LOOKING    BACK  85 

get  him  here  again  and  he  lets  me  put  my  hand  on  him, 
you  must  be  ready  to  grab  the  foot  I  raise  and  throw  me 
over  square  on  his  back,  then  I  will  ride  him  around 
and  around  until  he  gets  tired  out;  that  is  just  the  way 
they  tame  elephants.  Here  we  have  him  again,  grab, 
now  grab — there  I  am.  Sa}',  isn't  it  funny  he  does  not 
move  or  stir?  Why,  I  am  having  a  regular  picnic  up 
here." 

"Oh,  Merrick,  but  if  you  could  see  his  eyes,  and  his 
neck  is  curved  like  a  ram's  horn.  He  is  going  to  do 
something.  You  better  seize  his  tail  and  slide  off  back- 
wards before  he  starts." 

"Oh,  you  little  fraid  goose,  I  am  just  here  on  his 
back  and  he  can't  help  himself.  It's  just  fun,  and  when 
I  tell  the  girls  about  it,  won't  it  make  their  eyes  open 
wide?  He  can't  just  help  himself,  now  punch  him  a 
little  with  the  fork  handle  right  under  the  flanks — gee 
whiz,  it  is  funny  he  doesn't  start,  isn't  it?  I  wonder  if 
steers  ever  rear  up  in  the  front?" 

"First  you  know,  Merrick,  he  will  rear  up  behind  and 
send  you  into  the  middle  of  next  week.  See,  he  won't 
stir  when  I  punch  him  with  the  fork  handle.  He  is  just 
getting  ready  to  do  something  terrible,  and  when  he  does 
start,  something  will  happen.    Oh,  how  he  kind  of  swells 

up." 

"I'm  not  afraid.  Just  twist  his  tail  a  little,  twist  it 
harder.  Hey-hey,  here  I  go — look  out!  Gordon,  stop 
him — whoa-whoa — Oh,  Gordon,  where  have  I  been? 
What  did  he  do  ?  Where  am  I  now  ?  and  where  are  my 
pants?" 

"Why,  Merrick,  just  as  you  were  talking  to  me,  he 
hollered  'Bah,'  and  started.  First  your  legs  flew  up  and 
before  you  caught  your  balance  he   stopped   suddenly, 


86  LOOKING    BACK 

threw  up  his  head  and  his  horns  caught  your  pants  and 
ripped  them  clean  off,  and  you  took  the  most  awful 
plunge.  You  actually  flew  through  the  air  about  ten 
feet,  like  a  quail,  and  then  disappeared  in  this  manure 
pond.  I  thought  he  had  killed  you.  Say,  are  you  almost 
dead?" 

"Dead,  no,  but  where  are  my  pants  and  did  anybody 
see  us?  Did  Charlotte  Lewis  and  Mariva  Shepherd 
come  this  way  from  school  ?" 

"No,  they  did  not,  but  see  your  pants  are  on  his  horns 
now.  Oh,  Merrick,  your  eyes,  and  ears,  and  hair  are 
just  chuck  full.     Do  you  think  you  are  hurt  inwardly?" 

"Hurt?  No,  I'm  not  hurt.  Gee-whiz,  I'm  glad  the 
school  girls  weren't  coming  along  about  then.  Say, 
Gordon,  lets  run  for  the  brook  and  I  will  dive,  head- 
foremost, right  into  the  old  deep  hole,  and  when  I  come 
up  I  will  be  span  clean." 

"Gracious,  Merrick,  but  there  is  ice  floating  down 
now  and  aren't  your  legs  cold?" 

"Cold?  No.  Pa  says  there  are  lots  of  people  in  the 
world  who  wear  no  pants — say,  Gordon,  now  listen — 
if  you  won't  ever  tell  of  this  to  no  living  soul  I  will  do 
all  the  chores :  milking,  feeding  the  hogs,  cleaning  the 
stables,  building  the  fire  mornings,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I  don't  help  you  lie  yourself  out  of  every  mean  scrape 
you  get  into  in  the  next  ten  years." 


ALWAYS    WELCOME    AT    SISTER    CAROLINE'S    WABBAQtJASSETT    HOME. 
LEFT    TO    RIGHT.     CAROLINE,    MARTHA,    WALTON,    WARREN, 
EVERETT.    LUCIUS. 


SCHOOL  DAYS 

Nearby  was  a  backwoods  school  which  was  called  the 
White  Birch,  where  about  eighty  scholars  met  in  winter 
to  fit  themselves  for  future  eminence.  Here  it  was  that 
life's  troubles  began  with  me.  The  mode  of  punishment 
in  those  days  for  a  boy  was  to  draw  him  over  the  master's 
knee  and  spank  him,  and  I  am  quite  sure  I  got  more 
floggings  than  all  the  other  seventy-nine  scholars  together. 
Tom  Wheelock  often  spanked  me  so  furiously  that  the 
rising  dust  often  made  the  other  scholars  think  he  was 
setting  me  on  fire. 

From  the  first  at  school  I  had  been  a  mental  genius. 
When  eight  years  old  I  could  calculate  in  my  head  prob- 
lems intended  for  large  scholars  to  work  out  with  slate 
and  pencil.  The  knottiest  problems  in  Colburn's  old 
mental  arithmetic  were  as  simple  for  me  as  three  times 
ten,  and  this  I  could  do  without  ever  looking  at  the  rules. 
But,  oh,  my  spelling,  reading  and  writing  were  shock- 
ingly deficient,  and  my  grammar  was  laughable.  Once 
the  master  compelled  me  to  write  a  composition,  and 
when  he  read  it  he  laughed  and  said,  "The  ideas  are 
good,  Merrick,  but  it  needs  a  Philadelphia  lawyer  to 
connect  them." 

I  would  as  soon  fight  as  eat  and  was  ready  to  ham- 
mer any  boy  of  my  size  who  had  broken  up  a  bird's  nest, 
and  was  ready  to  protect  the  girls  to  the  limit  of  my 
strength  and  ability.  Whether  I  was  right  or  wrong,  I 
can  now  see  that  I  was  unconsciously  following  the  dic- 
87 


88  LOOKING    BACK 

tates  of  conscience.  When  fourteen  years  old  I  took  a 
serious  dislike  to  punishment  of  any  kind,  and  the  result 
was  that  I  left  school  for  srood. 


WABBAQUASSETT    (ilFiLS.     NEWELL    HILL    IN    THE    DISTANCE. 


COUNTRY  BOYS  IN  TOWN 

My  boyhood  days  were  spent  in  what  might  be 
termed,  the  upper  strata  of  the  last  stages  of  the  tallow 
candle  age.  Mother  dipped  candles  each  fall  to  light 
us  through  the  year.  Whale  oil  was  also  used,  but  a 
little  later  coal  oil  from  Pennsylvania  came  into  vogue. 

In  order  to  obtain  whale  oil,  vessels  for  that  pur- 
pose were  sent  out  from  New  Bedford,  New  London, 
New  York  and  other  harbors  along  the  northern  Atlantic 
Coast.  Accordingly,  four  of  us  youngsters,  my  brother 
Collins,  Lucius  Aborn,  Lyman  Newell  and  myself,  formed 
a  scheme  to  go  catching  whales  and  decided  to  visit  New 
York  and  look  the  matter  up  and,  if  possible,  learn  why 
our  parents  so  seriously  objected  to  having  us  become 
sailors. 

Accordingly,  we  went  to  Hartford  and  took  the  night 
steamer,  on  the  Connecticut  River,  for  New  York.  \\'hile 
waiting  for  the  boat  in  Hartford  we  all  went  out  to  get 
shaved  and  I  remember  it,  for  it  was  my  first  shave. 

The  barber  must  have  been  a  funny  fellow,  of  the 
Abe  Lincoln  type,  who  looked  serious  when  he  said  and 
did  funny  things.  He  was  not  sparing  of  his  lather,  for 
my  ears  held  quite  a  lot,  but  I  bore  it  bravely  until  he 
grabbed  me  right  by  the  nose  to  begin,  which  made  me 
burst  out  laughing  and  let  the  lather  run  into  my  mouth. 
W^hen  I  sobered  down  he  would  seize  me  by  the  nose 
and  begin  again,  which  would  make  my  friends  and  the 
other  barbers  all  laugh.     I  laughed  a  little  mvself,  but 


90  LOOKING    BACK 

he  never  smiled — just  watched  for  his  chance  to  seize  me. 
When  he  got  through,  without  a  smile,  he  said  he  never 
charged  boys  anything  for  the  first  shave. 

On  the  steamer,  of  which  the  cabins  seemed  to  me 
as  dazzling,  beautiful  and  wonderful  as  the  constellation 
of  Orion  does  now,  the  cabin  porter  got  our  cow-hide 
boots,  while  we  were  asleep,  and  shined  them  and  then 
demanded  ten  cents  for  each  boot,  but  we  compromised 
on  ten  cents  for  the  whole  lot,  and  threatened  to  throw 
him  overboard  at  that. 

When  we  landed  at  Peck  Slip,  New  York,  we  at  once 
inquired  for  the  office  where  sailors  were  enlisted  for 
three-year  voyages  catching  whales. 

The  agent  was  a  man  probably  seventy  years  old  and 
began  inquiring  our  names  and  where  we  were  from, 
and  then  he  said  he  knew  about  Square  Pond,'  as  he  once 
drove  stage  right  along  its  shore  on  the  old  roiite  from 
Hartford  to  Boston.  Then  he  said:  "Sit  down,  boys," 
and  he  talked  to  us  to  this  effect: 

"Now,  boys,  you  do  not  want  to  enlist  for  a  three 
years'  voyage.  If  you  have  got  the  fishing  fever  I  can 
get  you  all  a  chance  on  a  smack  for  three  months,  off  the 
coast  of  Newfoundland,  catching  codfish.  Then  if  you 
are  not  sick  of  the  job  you  can  go  whaling."  We  listened 
to  him  kindly  and  finally  gave  up,  not  only  the  whaling, 
but  the  fishing  altogether. 

We  then  began  canvassing  the  book  stores  for  a  book 
which  Lyman  had  heard  about,  which  boys  ought  not  to 
read,  and  that  was  why  he  wanted  it.  The  title  was 
"Fanny  Hill,"  and  when  we  inquired  at  the  book  stores 
we  were  turned  down,  until  we  struck  a  Yankee  who  sold 
second-hand  books,  who  inquired  where  we  were  from, 
and  when  our  boat  would  leave  New  York,  and  then 


BEAUTIFUL    WOMEN,    WORTHY    MEN,    CHARMING    OLD    WABBAQUASSETT. 

CENTRAL  LOWER  LADY  FIGURE.   JULIA  NEWELL  WARNER,  MY^ 

LIFE-LONG    ESTEEMED    FRIEND. 


LOOKING    BACK  91 

said  he  hardly  dare  sell  it  to  us  for  fear  he  would  be 
arrested. 

The  price  he  said  was  $1.00,  and  he  would  run  the 
risk,  if  we  would  come  around  just  before  the  boat  started 
and  then  promise,  all  of  us,  not  to  open  the  package 
until  the  boat  had  left  the  dock.  To  this  we  readily 
agreed  and  then  went  on  taking  in  the  town,  thinking  more 
about  the  book  than  we  did  about  the  giants,  pigmies, 
monkeys  and  elephants  which  we  found  at  Barnum's 
Museum. 

We  were  now  hungry  again,  so  we  took  another  oyster 
stew  and  then  started  up  the  Bowery,  when  we  heard 
music  and  were  invited  in  where  a  wheel  table  was 
turning.  One  could  put  down  ten  cents  and  might  win 
$100.00.  We  were  going  shares  in  everything,  so  decided 
to  risk  ten  cents,  and  the  other  boys  allowed  me  to  try. 
"Forty  dollars,"  cried  the  man,  and  then  discovered  his 
mistake,  that  it  was  only  forty  cents,  and  then  began 
telling  of  folks  from  the  country  winning  money,  and 
this  was  one  of  the  stories  which  did  not  take : 

"A  large  man,"  he  said,  "came  to  New  York  from 
the  mountains  of  Pennsylvania  and  offered  to  bet  $50.00 
that  he  could  carry  a  feather-bed  tick  full  of  buck-shot 
across  Broadway  on  his  head.  Well,  boys,  we  loaded  the 
tick,  which  took  nearly  all  the  shot  in  the  city,  and  he 
started.  He  won  the  bet,  I  saw  him  do  it,  but  you  see 
that  stone  pavement  on  Broadway,  do  you?  Well,  boys, 
when  he  crossed  the  street  the  load  was  so  heavy  that 
he  mired  into  that  stone  pavement  clear  up  to  his  knees, 
but  he  won  the  $50.00." 

Then  we  told  him  that  we  were  liars  ourselves,  and 
trugged  on,  actually  having  beat  the  gamblers  out  of 
thirty  cents. 


92  LOOKING    BACK 

After  another  oyster  stew  dinner  we  strolled  into  the 
Bowery  Theatre,  where  minstrels  were  playing,  which 
amused  us,  as  it  was  the  first  we  had  ever  seen,  and 
supposed  they  were  genuine  darkies.  They  sat  in  a  half 
circle  and  after  singing  and  playing,  the  two  end  men 
would  ask  questions,  and  one  dialogue  ran  this  way : 

"Rastus,  I  heard  you  was  out  last  night." 

"Yes,  Sah,  I  was  out  prominading  on  Broadway." 

"Did  you  have  your  best  girl  along?" 

"Zartenly." 

"Did  you  take  her  home?" 

"Zartenly." 

"Did  she  invite  you  in  ?" 

"Not  zackly.     We  stood  inside  the  gate." 

"Did  she  exhibit  great  affection?" 

"Great  what  ?" 

"Great  affection." 

"I  suppose  so." 

"What  did  she  and  you  do?" 

"Dat  am  a  pointed  question,  sah." 

"Well,  but  you  said  she  showed  great  affection." 

"Showed  what?" 

"Great  affection,  Rastus.    Did  she  love  you?" 

"Yes,  sah,  she  squozed  my  hand  and  then  I  squoze 
her  with  my  arm." 

"Squoze,  Rastus?  Why,  there  is  no  such  word  a? 
squoze." 

"Yes,  there  is,  for  she  said  she  had  never  been  squoze 
by  a  regular  man  before." 

"Where  do  you  get  that  word  ?" 

"Noah  Webster,  sah.    Shall  I  instruct  you  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"Is  not  rise,  rose,  risen,  proper?" 


LOOKING    BACK  93 

"Certainly." 

"Then  why  not  squize,  squoze,  squizzen  ?" 

Then  they  all  sang  again. 

One  incident  that  I  yet  remember  was  that  all  had 
on  light-colored  vests,  and  while  crossing  Broadway, 
dodging  here  and  there  among  the  omnibusses,  trucks, 
and  other  vehicles,  such  as  we  had  never  seen  before, 
I  slipped  on  the  wet  stone  pavement  and  fell  flat  on  my 
stomach,  but  it  soon  dried  off  and  I  was  at  the  front 
again,  and  at  the  appointed  time  we  appeared  at  the 
book  store  and  gave  the  man  his  dollar,  who  again  cau- 
tioned us  not  to  let  the  police  see  it. 

It  was  papered  up  nicely  and  I  can  now  see  how 
nervously  Newell  jammed  it  into  his  inside  pocket,  which 
was  not  quite  large  enough,  and  then  we  boarded  the 
steamer,  all  the  while  looking  out  of  the  corners  of  our 
eyes  that  no  one  suspicioned  us. 

After  the  steamer  had  cleared  the  dock  and  Lute 
Aborn  said  we  were  on  the  high  seas,  we  slipped  around 
behind  the  wheel  pit,  for  it  was  a  side-wheeled  steamer, 
and  as  Newell  was  nervously  untying  the  string,  he  said : 
"Now  we  will  all  look  at  the  pictures  first  and  then  you, 
Lute,  who  is  the  best  reader,  will  read  it  aloud" — when, 
behold,  it  was  nothing  but  a  New  Testament  worth  ten 
cents. 

This  little  Fanny  Hill  experience  was  really  a  bless- 
ing in  disguise  to  us  boys,  but  we  did  not  think  so  at  the 
time,  and  if  we  could  have  gotten  hold  of  that  dealer 
we  would  have  taught  him  that  there  was  yet  a  God  in 
Israel. 


AS  A  YANKEE  TIN  PEDDLER 

At  the  Methodist  Church  just  south  of  Wabbaquassett 
there  were  revivals  each  winter  and  with  other  I  expe- 
rienced rehgion,  but  mine,  even  though  serious,  sort  of 
struck  in  and  did  not  break  out  again  for  several  years. 

At  the  age  of  nineteen  I  had  become  sort  of  terror 
to  my  enemies,  for  I  was  quick,  strong  and  fearless.  One 
night  I  had  my  usual  warning  dream,  of  trouble  ahead, 
and  the  next  day  I  nearly  killed  a  man  as  fearless  as 
myself.  The  following  day  when  I  caught  my  father 
weeping  I  resolved  ever  after  to  avoid  all  personal  en- 
counters, which  determination  for  self-control  has  car- 
ried me  over  many  a  rickety  bridge  in  safety,  and  my 
warning  dreams  have  never  troubled  me  since. 

Farming  soon  became  too  tame  for  me,  and  while 
nature's  adornments  which  made  up  and  surrounded  our 
quiet  home,  often  charmed  my  soul  into  serious  dream- 
like fancies,  yet,  somehow  I  enjoyed  singing  funny 
songs  and  telling  stories,  together  with  their  proper 
amendments  and  legitimate  construction — in  fact,  like 
my  mother,  I  could  tell  an  old  story  which  every  one  had 
heard  forty  times  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  laughter. 
Therefore,  as  farm  life  seemed  to  be  an  insvifficient  in- 
cubator for  hatching  out  fresh  productions,  I  mysteriously 
evolved  into  the  seemingly  exalted  position  of  a  Yankee 
Tin  Peddler. 

There  were  at  that  time  at  least  ten  firms  in  New 
England  and  York  State  who  manufactured  tinware,  for 
94 


<b 


^  4^ 


•^^PP'     ^il      ^i^e 


ALBUM  OF   SUNNY  DAYS. 

CENTRAL    LOWER    LIKENESS    IS    OF    MY    COUSIN    O.    M.    RICHARDSON, 

NOW    RETIRED    MANUFACTURER    OF    ROCKVILLE,    CONN.       THREE 

GIRLS    IN     CENTRAL     SCENE,    LINA,     ELVA    AND     JOSEPHINE 

NEWELL,      DAUGHTERS      OF      MY      SISTER      JANETTE 

AT    HER    OLD    WABBAQUASSETT    HOME,    1890. 


LOOKING    BACK  95 

which  they  loaned  carts  and  gave  credit  to  lively  chaps 
who  had  teams.  The  peddler  would  go  on  the  road  and 
trade  the  tinware  for  barter,  old  iron,  copper,  brass,  lead, 
zinc  and  all  kinds  of  paper  stock,  besides  cow  hides  and 
sheep  pelts  or  anything  of  which  he  knew  the  value,  and 
ship  it  in  to  pay  his  account.  It  was  a  lucrative  business 
for  a  clever  boy,  often  clearing  $100.00  per  week  besides 
his  expenses.  Also  it  gave  him  a  chance  to  study  human 
nature,  as  a  good  peddler  must  be  able  to  read  his  cus- 
tomer before  he  says  the  wrong  thing,  for  a  frolicsome 
Irish  woman  appreciates  a  tone  and  language  with  per- 
haps a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder,  which  would  frighten 
an  elderly,  sedate,  bloodless  maiden  into  spasms. 

Soon  my  two  brothers  and  myself  with  several  neigh- 
boring young  men  were  into  the  business,  and  in  the 
Spring  of  1861  Alonzo  Shepherd  and  myself  ventured  a 
tirp  to  Long  Island  by  the  way  of  New  York  City.  On 
this  trip  we  acquired  both  wealth  and  fame.  The  ridicul- 
ous instances  of  our  travels  often  come  up  before  me 
now.  We  were  continually  playing  tricks  on  each  other 
which  always  ended  in  laughter.  On  this  trip  we  became 
horse  traders,  which  proved  to  be  more  lucrative  than 
peddling. 

In  1863  I  shipped  my  team  to  Batavia,  New  York, 
and  in  August  sent  for  my  brother  Gordon  to  come  to 
Dunkirk,  where  I  had  another  team,  and  we  peddled 
through  Pennsylvania,  Ohio  and  Michigan,  returning  to 
Connecticut  in  the  Fall,  after  which  I  returned  to  Elba, 
N.  Y.,  where,  December  10th,  I  married  Mary  Jane 
Hoyt,  a  beautiful,  intelligent  girl  of  twenty  years. 

The  following  year,  1864,  with  several  other  teams 
each,  we  came  West  again  and  returned  to  Albany  for 
the  winter.     On  mv  return  I  followed  the  shore  road  of 


96  LOOKING    BACK 

Lake  Ontario  around  to  Watertown,  N.  Y.,  while  Gor- 
don returned  through  Pennsylvania,  our  object  being  to 
buy  horses  of  the  mountain  farmers. 


MARY     JANE    HOYT,     ELBA.     N.     V..     18G3.        \V1LUEH    WOOD^ 

THIS   PICTURE   WAS   TAKEN    THE    SUMMER   BEFORE 

WE   WERE    MARRIED. 


THE  THOMPSON  FAMILY. 

From  Watertown,  I  worked  East,  where  I  fell  in  with 
a  family  by  the  name  of  Thompson,  who  owned  a  large 
stock-raising  farm  in  the  foot  hills  of  Mount  Seward, 
not  far  from  North  Elba,  the  Adirondack  home  of  John 
Brown. 

My  experience  with  the  Thompsons  left  a  vivid  im- 
pression on  my  memory  which  never  grows  dim. 

As  I  remember  them  Mr.  Thompson  was  short,  heavy 
set,  blue  eyed,  fair  complexion,  with  a  physiognomy  in- 
dicating that  he  seldom  suffered  defeat.  He  v/as  usually 
thoughtful  and  serious,  but  when  telling  stories  or  re- 
lating experience  he  was  full  of  mirth. 

Mary,  his  wife,  was  an  interesting  woman.  Her  stout 
figure,  dark  eyes  and  hair  with  fair  skin  made  her  look 
striking,  especially  in  laughing,  when  her  eyes  twinkled 
and  gave  expression  of  mirth.  All  the  animals  on  the 
farm  were  seemingly  her  special  pets,  but  their  little  dog 
Joe  came  in  for  the  lion's  share.  Really  the  little  white. 
curly  fellow  with  black  eyes  and  nose,  when  standing 
erect  with  head  and  tail  up,  did  look  as  though  he  was 
monarch  of  all  he  surveyed.  Everybody  loved  him  ex- 
cept the  cats.  Much  of  Mrs.  Thompson's  time  was  given 
over  to  church  work,  for  which  she  must  have  been  well 
fitted,  as  her  Christian  character  was  discernable  at  every 
move  and  turn. 

Vida,  their  daughter  of  sixteen  summers,  was  fair, 
with  large  dark  eyes,  auburn  hair  and  prominent  chin. 
97 


98  LOOKING   BACK 

Her  quick  glance  and  mirthful  smile  betokened  self- 
esteem  and  decisive  character,  while  glee  and  dare  inno- 
cently portrayed  pent  emotion  and  artful  design. 

During  the  evening  I  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
story  of  John  Brown,  and  was  glad  to  learn  that  Mr. 
Thompson  had  been  a  near  friend  of  Brown  and  was 
with  him  on  the  Kennedy  farm  only  a  few  days  before 
the  raid  on  Harper's  Ferry. 

At  Mrs.  Thompson's  suggestion  we  planned  that  we 
four  take  a  horseback  ride  after  church  services  on  the 
morrow,  up  to  the  Brown  farm  and  see  John's  grave  and 
the  big  rock  nearby  from  which,  in  former  days,  he  had 
done  much  preaching  to  the  mountaineers. 

Our  horses  were  good  lopers,  taking  us  up  and  down- 
hill through  the  woods  to  the  farm,  at  which  we  arrived 
very  quickly,  but  found  none  of  the  family  at  home. 
We  finally  gained  entrance  to  the  little  farm  house  and 
sat  in  John's  chair  by  his  cheap  desk.  Afterwards  we 
climbed  on  the  big  rock  now  near  his  grave  which  seems 
to  stand  as  a  lone  sentinel,  in  the  rocky  wilds,  silently 
calling  the  coming  generations  to  the  resting  place  of  the 
ashes  of  him  who  followed  the  dictates  of  conscience,  re- 
gardless of  immediate  results. 

After  enjoying  hot  cream  biscuit  with  wild  honey 
and  crabapple  jelly,  with  a  neighbor  of  the  Browns,  we 
started  down  the  mountain,  and  through  the  evening 
we  sat  before  the  crackling  hickory  flames  in  the  great 
fireplace  while  Mr.  Thompson  gave  his  experience  with 
the  Browns,  which  were  substantially  as  follows : 


JOHN  BROWN,   1850. 

GOD    CALLS    EVERY    MAN    AND    WOMAN    TO    DUTY   AND    REQUIRES 
A    RESPONSE    AGCORDINfi    TO   THEIR    INDIVIDUAL   ABILITY. 


JOHN  BROWN. 

One  evening  in  the  summer  of  1850,  John  Brown, 
whom  I  had  known  in  Springfield,  Mass.,  as  a  successful 
wool  merchant,  surprised  us  by  calling,  and  relating  his 
troubles, 

"I,"  he  said,  "through  misfortune  or  mismanagement, 
have  lost  the  fortune  which  I  amassed  in  25  years.  In 
trying  to  retrieve,  I  shipped  my  stock  to  Europe,  but 
after  staying  there  about  four  months  I  sold  it  so  low 
that  my  loss,  including  the  expense  of  the  trip,  left  me 
stranded.  My  ardor  for  the  slave  has  not  in  the  least 
abated,  and  through  the  assistance  of  Gerritt  Smith  I 
have  taken  up  land  and  am  building  a  home  over  in 
North  Elba,  I  am  a  sort  of  instructor  to  the  colored  folks 
of  Smith's  Wild  Wood  Colony. 

"I  have  several  colored  men  working  for  me  in  clear- 
ing up  and  planting,  and  they  work  well.  I  brought  along 
some  blooded  cattle,  pigs  and  hens,  and  finding  many 
hard  maples  on  the  place,  which  produce  sap  for  sirup, 
we  feel  quite  independent.  Two  of  our  heifers  have 
come  in  and  we  have  plenty  of  milk,  so  I  tell  my  wife 
if  we  have  not  crossed  the  Jordan  into  the  land  of  milk 
and  honey,  we  have  crossed  the  Connecticut  into  the  land 
of  milk  and  maple  molasses.  Now  I  must  be  going  in 
order  to  reach  home  before  dark." 

"Stay,  Mr.  Brown,"  I  said,  "why,  we  have  not  visited 
at  all  yet." 

"I  know,  Mr.  Thompson,  but  I  came  just  to  let 
99 


100  LOOKING    BACK 

you  know  where  we  are,  and  if  you  will  come  to  see  us 
we  will  treat  you  to  fried  chicken,  boiled  potatoes,  hot 
corn  bread  and  fresh  butter.    Will  you  come?" 

"Surely;  how  far  is  it,  John?" 
"About  25  miles  up  the  mountain,  and  10  miles  down ; 
but  I  am  still  good  for  four  miles  an  hour.  Say,  Mrs. 
Thompson,  set  on  something  for*  me  to  eat,  the  very  best 
you  have,  for  the  Bible  says,  'Be  not  slow  to  entertain 
strangers  for  thereby  you  may  be  entertaining  angels, 
unaware.'  " 

Soon  after,  early  one  morning,  we  saddled  our  horses 
and  rode  over  to  call  on  our  new  neighbors,  when  Brown 
would  hear  nothing  but  that  we  must  stop  with  them 
overnight,  and  although  we  all  visited,  cooked,  ate  and 
slept  in  the  same  room,  we  did  enjoy  ourselves. 

Before  retiring,  we  all  knelt  in  family  worship,  when 
Brown  prayed  so  clear  and  fervent  that  no  one  could 
doubt  his  faith  in  the  loving  Father,  who  he  believed  was 
listening. 

Ruth,  Brown's  eldest  daughter,  and  her  husband, 
Henry  Thompson,  were  with  them,  and  several  of  the 
younger  children.  Oliver,  one  of  those  killed  at  Har- 
per's Ferry,  recently,  was  then  about  10  years  old. 

After  supper.  Brown  and  I  climbed  onto  the  great 
rock,  beside  where  his  body  now  lies,  when  he  revealed 
to  me  his  disconnected  plans  of  venturing  into  a  slave 
state  and  arming  negroes  who  could  fight  for  their  own 
liberty. 

"But,"  said  I,  "the  law  gives  those  Southerners  the 
right  to  hold  slaves." 

"What  law?"  he  exclaimed  as  he  extended  his  lower 
jaw  defiantly  and  repeated,  "What  law?  Jesus  defined 
laws  as  the  will  or  mandate  of  Jehovah.    If  you  call  the 


LOOKING    BACK  101 

conclusions  of  an  assembly  of  men  today  which  another 
assembly  of  men  tomorrow  can  prove  to  be  felonious, 
law,  then  John  Brown  is  an  outlaw ;  but  if  the  Saviour's 
definition,  'Love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  w4th  all  thy  mind 
and  soul,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,'  is  law,  then  John 
Brown  is  a  law-abiding  citizen,  and  will,  if  needs  be, 
die  for  those  who  are  in  bondage,  who  have  committed  no 
crime." 

Then  raising  his  tall  form  and  moving  slowly  to  and 
fro  in  the  moonlight  on  the  great  rock,  he  continued  in 
a  soft  tone. 

"God  calls  every  man  and  woman  to  duty  and  requires 
a  response  according  to  their  individual  ability.  I  feel 
that  I  have  had  a  call  to  open  the  gate  of  freedom  to 
the  slaves  in  this,  Columbia.  This  call  is  not  a  direct 
communication  from  God,  but  more  in  the  line  of  duty. 
I  am  somehow  impressed  that  I  am  the  man  to  answer 
this  call,  for,  when  I  pray  for  guidance,  the  echo  seems 
to  come  back,  'Your  strength  is  sufficient.'  When  you 
and  I  were  boys,  Dan,  we  read  of  famous  persons  whose 
characters  glittered  before  us,  but  we  somehow  over- 
looked the  fact  that  duty  and  praise  do  not  travel  hand 
in  hand,  but  rather,  that  duty  treads  the  thorny  way  and 
fame  creeps  softly  after. 

"Not  only  is  this  God's  law,  but  it  coincides  with  ex- 
perience. Disappointment  mingled  with  failure  seems 
to  be  the  earthly  lot  of  man,  and  yet  it  is  not  failure. 
W'hen  the  morn  of  eternity  dawns,  and  you  and  I  shall 
stand  to  be  judged  according  to  our  past  records,  what 
will  be  more  glorious  than  that  we  meet  failure  in  trying 
to  accomplish  good?  I  know  that  slavery  is  a  sin,  and, 
if  needs  be,  I  will  die  for  the  cause." 

Of  course,  I  saw  Brown  occasionally  during  the  next 


102  .     LOOKING    BACK 

nine  years,  but  I  have  no  time  this  evening  to  relate  his 
wildcat  crusades  in  Kansas  and  Missouri,  so  we  will  pass 
over  to  the  closing  days  of  his  life. 

Oliver,  Brown's  youngest  son,  grew  up  on  the  North 
Elba  farm,  and  through  him  I  was  kept  informed  con- 
cerning Brown's  border  free-booters  until  Brown  came 
and  took  him  to  the  Kennedy  Farm  near  Harper's  Ferry. 

NEAR    harper's    FERRY. 

Anna,  Brown's  oldest  daughter  by  his  second  wife, 
returned  from  Maryland  about  the  last  of  October, 
1859,  when  at  her  father's  request  she  sent  for  me  and 
gave  me  all  the  particulars  concerning  their  rendezvous 
at  the  Kennedy  Farm  and  their  contemplated  raid  on 
Hall's  Rifle  Works  at  Harper's  Ferry. 

The  next  day,  after  promising  my  pets,  my  wife  and 
Vida,  that  1  would  not  join  the  mutineers,  as  Vida  liked 
to  call  them,  I  left  for  Washington,  and  was  soon  in  con- 
sultation with  John  Brown  in  the  attic  of  the  little  house 
on  the  Kennedy  Farm,  where  Anna  had,  as  Brown  said, 
acted  as  his  watchdog,  entertaining  and  detaining  all 
strangers  until  he  or  his  men  could  disperse  or  prepare. 

I  soon  discovered  that  his  attitude  toward  universal 
fredom  had  not  abated,  and  that  all  his  men,  including 
three  sons,  had  become  much  like  him,  as,  at  the  prayer 
meeting  in  the  little  church  nearby  and  the  family  altar, 
they  often  chimed  in  "Amen."  As  I  think  of  them  now 
I  can  truthfully  say  I  never  saw  a  band  of  men  more 
Christianized  in  their  expressions  than  those,  for  John 
had  instilled  into  their  minds  his  theory  that  ihe  world 
was  to  be  benefited  by  the  struggle  they  were  about  to 
begin. 


LOOKING    BACK  103 

One  day  Oliver,  his  father  and  I  walked  down  to  Har- 
per's Ferry,  and  while  returning  in  the  evening,  Oliver 
and  I  pressed  him  for  an  explanation  of  the  course  he 
would  pursue  when  he  had  taken  possession  of  the  arms 
at  the  Rifle  A\'orks,  as  the  slaves  would  be  useless  at 
first,  but  he  had  none — he  seemed  to  rely  implicitly  upon 
God  and  the  Northern  abolitionists  to  see  him  through. 

Suddenly  stopping  us  under  the  dark  shadowy  trees, 
and  laying  one  hand  on  Oliver's  shoulder  and  the  other  on 
mine,  he  said  low  and  earnestly :  "I  do  not  know  where 
I  shall  be  when  that  beautiful  moon  has  made  its  journey 
around  this  world  once  more,  but  one  thing  I  do  know 
and  that  is  this :  through  my  ceaseless  efiforts  I  have  cor- 
ralled the  slave  holders  until  now  I  have  them  in  a  trap. 
If  my  efiforts  are  not  impeded  the  slave  will  eventually 
free  himself.  If  they  are,  and  I  am  destroyed,  the  North, 
through  sympathy  for  me  and  justice  to  the  slave,  will 
continue  my  cause  until  the  bondmen  are  free.  So  you 
see  I  have  them  in  a  trap,  but  my  aim  is  to  avoid  a  bloody 
war,  for  the  families  in  the  South  are  as  dear  to  me  as 
those  in  the  North,  but  slavery  is  a  sin  and  must  cease. 
Soon  this  generation  will  be  passed,  other  men  our  lands 
will  till  and  other  men  our  streets  will  fill.  When  we  are 
all  gone  the  South  as  well  as  the  North  will  speak  kindly 
of  him  who  dared  to  oppose  his  country's  unjust  laws." 

All  of  Brown's  men  as  well  as  myself  considered  the 
Harper's  Ferry  raid  an  unwise  move,  but  to  Brown, 
human  life  seemed  a  secondary  matter,  as  compared  to 
the  continuation  of  national  sin. 

The  last  evening  I  stayed  at  the  Kennedy  Farm.  After 
a  supper  of  corn  cake  and  molasses,  Stephens  and  Tidd, 
who  had  melodious  voices,  sang  "All  the  Dear  Folks  at 
Home  Have  Gone"  and  "Faded  Flowers."    Their  voices 


104  LOOKING    BACK 

echoing  softly  down  the  glens  where  the  tree  of  freedom 
was  about  to  appear  rooted  and  nourished  in  the  blood  of 
those  brave  helpless  invaders.  Oliver  Brown,  noticing  my 
emotion,  gave  me  a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder,  saying, 
"Now  we  will  all  join  in  with  father,  'Nearer  my  God 
to  Thee,'  "  which  we  did  before  kneeling  together  for 
the  last  time  at  that  strange  family  altar. 

When  I  left  for  the  North  next  day,  the  understand- 
ing was  that  the  raid  would  not  take  place  until  about 
November  1st,  but  condition  made  it  expedient  for  them 
to  move  at  once,  which  they  did. 

I  arrived  home  the  17th  of  October,  and  after  sup- 
per I  saddled  the  horses,  when  my  wife,  Vida  and  myself 
ran  up  the  mountains  at  a  spirited  canter,  arriving  at  the 
Brown  Farm  in  the  dark.  In  the  small  frame  house  we 
found  his  wife,  Mary,  and  three  of  his  daughters,  Anna, 
Sarah  and  Ellen;  Mary,  the  wife  of  Oliver;  Henry  and 
Ruth  Thompson  and  several  neighbors. 

All  listened  in  silence,  while  I  related  the  incidents 
of  my  visit  at  the  Kennedy  Farm,  but,  of  course,  none 
of  us  knew  that  Brown  had  already  taken  possession  of 
Harper's  Ferry,  that  Oliver  and  Watson  had  been  killed, 
and  that  the  old  man  was  holding  out  so  grimly  in  the 
engine  house. 

About  ten  days  later  the  exaggerated  telegrams  con- 
cerning Harper's  Ferry  were  afloat  which  set  us  all  agog, 
but  not  until  Friday  the  21st  did  we  get  a  copy  of  the 
New  York  Times,  of  the  18th,  which  I  took  up  to  the 
Elba  home,  and  we  all  listened  while  Annie  read  it 
through,  then  for  several  moments  all  remained  silent,  as 
we  thought  father  and  all  were  dead. 

Later  we  learned  that  the  father  was  alive,  but  Wat- 


LOOKING    BACK  105 

son  and  Oliver  were  dead,  and  that  Owen  was  missing, 
which  was  considered  equivalent  to  being  dead. 

John  Brown's  trial  ended  October  21st.  On  Novem- 
ber 2d  he  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  which  execution 
was  carried  out  December  2,  1859. 

Of  those  missing.  Cook  and  Haslet  were  captured, 
and  we  took  it  for  granted  that  Owen  and  the  other  three 
for  whom  there  was  a  reward  offered  had  been  killed  at 
the  Ferry,  but  not  reported. 


THE  DEAD  APPEAR 

Near  the  time  set  for  the  execution  of  Mr.  Brown  we 
were  all  nervous,  especially  our  Vida  and  Sarah  Brown ; 
they  were  about  ready  to  fly,  and  what  happened,  Vida 
must  tell  it  herself. 

"Oh,  no,  papa ;  you're  telling  the  story ;  keep  right  on." 

Well,  as  I  have  said,  we  knew  that  the  three  Brown 
boys,  Watson,  Owen  and  Oliver,  were  dead  and  the 
father  was  to  be  executed  December  2d,  and  we  were 
running  back  and  forth  to  the  Elba  Farm  all  the  time, 
trying  to  help  the  women  to  bear  up  under  this  trying 
ordeal. 

One  dark  evening,  the  last  of  November,  two  neigh- 
boring girls  came  in  and  stayed  until  after  10  o'clock, 
when  Vida  and  my  wife  accompanied  them  to  the  gate. 
When  she  returned,  as  we  were  sitting  before  the  fire 
in  this  big  fireplace,  a  soft  rap  came  on  the  door,  which 
we  seldom  use,  and  as  I  rose  up  Vida  said :  "That  is 
Flossy,  let  me  go." 

The  door  being  in  the  entry,  from  where  we  sat  Mary 
and  I  could  not  see  Vida  when  she  opened  it,  but  listened 
if  we  might  recognize  the  voice.  The  voice  being  inaudi- 
ble, I  started  to  go  just  as  Vida  uttered  a  low  moan, 
staggered  backwards  to  where  I  could  see  her,  and  fell 
in  a  dead  faint. 

I  sprang  to  the  open  door  and  called  out,  but  could 

see  nor  hear  no  one.     Then  I  closed  and  locked  it,  and 

Mary  brought  the  camphor,  but  we  could  not  bring  her 

back,  so  as  to  tell  whom  she  had  seen  for  a  long  time. 

106 


LOOKING    BACK  107 

When  she  recovered  she  said  it  was  one  of  the  Browns, 
but  she  thought  he  was  dead.  I  instantly  decided  it  was 
John  Brown,  who  had  escaped  from  Charlestown  jail, 
which  was  a  feasible  conchision,  as  all  the  news  we 
were  receiving  in  the  Adirondacks  was  nearly  a  week 
old  and  unreliable. 

Rushing  out  I  ran  down  into  the  road,  calling  John 
by  name,  when  I  heard  a  voice  near  the  house,  and  turning 
back,  discovered  it  was  Owen  Brown,  who  had  been 
reported  missing,  and  we  supposed  he  was  dead. 

When  in  out  of  the  cold  and  before  the  big  fireplace 
with  Mary  washing  his  hands  and  face,  Vida  trying  to 
untangle  his  unkempt  hair  and  I  getting  off  his  shoes, 
which  had  not  been  removed  in  weeks,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands  and  wept,  but  did  not  speak. 

After  supper  he  listened  to  our  reports  from  Harper's 
Ferry  and  North  Elba  as  we  had  gained  them,  and  then 
inquired  if  I  thought  it  was  imprudent  for  him  to  try 
to  visit  those  at  home,  to  which  I  assured  him  that  he 
would  be  more  safe  in  Washington  than  he  was  in  the 
Adirondacks. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "it  is  better  that  they  never  know 
you  have  seen  me."  Then  turning  to  Vida  said :  "You 
can  keep  a  secret?"  Vida  put  her  hand  on  his  head  say- 
ing, "Try  me  and  see." 

It  was  soon  arranged  that  Mary  should  spend  the 
next  day  cleaning  and  fixing  his  clothes,  Vida  would 
run  Fleet  Foot  Jim  up  to  the  Elba  Farm  and  without 
revealing  anything  bring  back  all  the  news,  while  I  was 
to  borrow  what  money  he  might  require,  and  the  follow- 
ing night  he  and  I  were  to  run,  on  saddle,  to  Robert 
Doan,  a  staunch  abolitionist,  from  which  place  he  would 
make  his  way  to  his  brother  at  Dorsett,  Ohio. 


VIDA'S  DARING  EXPLOIT 

We  were  unable  to  get  Owen  ready  for  the  night  ride 
until  the  second  evening,  when  Vida  declared  her  in- 
tention to  accompany  us  as  far  as  Jobe's  Hill,  seventeen 
miles  down  the  mountain.  "For,"  said  she,  "when  Mr. 
Brown  is  clear  from  the  Adirondack  region,  he  can  make 
his  way  in  comparative  safety  to  Utica,  or  if  he  is  going 
to  Ohio,  he  can  follow  the  lake  shore  to  Rochester.  Now 
do  not  say  no.  Papa,  for  I  am  not  afraid ;  they  will  never 
catch  Old  Jim  while  I  am  on  his  back.  Besides,  a  lady 
riding  with  two  men  might  fool  even  a  shrewd  detective, 
if  such  a  thing  might  be  that  any  of  our  mountain  green- 
horns have  turned  detectives  for  the  sake  of  the  reward 
which  is  out  for  Owen." 

"Why,  Vida,"  said  Owen. 

"Please  do  not  object,  Mr.  Brown.  I  am  an  Adiron- 
dack lassie  who  used  to  go  barefoot  in  summer,  and  I 
know  as  much  about  these  backwood  aspirants  as  anyone." 

"Now,  my  dear  child,"  I  said. 

"Papa,"  she  continued,  "will  you,  for  once,  allow  your 
pet  to  have  her  own  way?  If  you  should  be  caught,  think 
of  the  consequences ;  and  you.  Mamma  and  I  would  be 
ashamed  to  hold  up  our  heads  in  church.  Now,  Mamma, 
will  you  take  my  side?" 

"You   know.    Papa,"   said   Mrs.    Thompson,    "that   all 
the  girls  are  accustomed  to — " 

"All  right— all  right,"  I  said,  for  I  felt  that  Vida's 
plan  was  sensible. 

108 


LOOKING  BACK  109 

At  10  o'clock,  when  we  went  out  to  saddle  the  horses, 
we  were  startled  by  two  strangers  standing  near  the 
gate,  but  soon  learned  they  were  wood  choppers  from 
the  timberlands  farther  up  the  mountain,  who  had  become 
confused,  thinking  they  might  be  on  the  wrong  road. 

Fleet  Foot  Jim,  who  was  always  proud  when  my  wife 
or  Vida  was  on  his  back,  pranced,  nibbled  his  bit,  paced 
and  cantered  until  Vida  patted  his  neck  and  talked  baby 
talk  to  him,  when  he  steadied  down  and  we  went  on  at 
a  brisk  trot,  seldom  speaking  until  we  reached  Jobe's  Hill, 
where  Vida  kissed  me  again,  bidding  me  not  to  worry, 
shook  hands  good-bye  with  Owen  and  she  was  off  on 
a  spirited  run  through  the  midnight  gloom. 

Brown  and  I  listened  to  the  klick  of  the  horse's  feet 
as  they  made  the  turn  down  through  the  dark  timber 
valley,  then  ascending  the  hill  the  klicking  grew  fainter 
until  they  passed  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  when  it  ceased 
altogether. 

"Listen,"  said  I  to  Brown,  "the  long  wooden  bridge 
we  came  over  is  not  more  than  two  miles  away,"  and  as 
we  waited  the  rumbling  thunder  from  old  Jim's  heels  on 
the  bridge  assured  us  that  Vida's  lonely  midnight  ride 
up  the  Adirondack  Mountains  would  soon  be  over,  and  so 
it  was,  for  she  left  the  hemlock  grove  on  Jobe's  Hill  at 
just  11 :30  and  bounced  into  her  waiting  mother's  arms  at 
home  at  12:15,  making  the  17  miles  in  45  minutes,  which 
she  always  refers  to  as  her  glorious  midnight  ride. 


OWEN  BROWN'S  STORY 

"Soon  after  you  left  us  at  the  Kennedy  Farm  we  were 
startled  by  the  rumor  that  the  authorities  were  about  to 
come  down  upon  us,  so  we  decided  to  seize  the  arsenal 
Sunday  night. 

"Father  routed  us  out  earlier  than  usual  for  our 
family  worship  on  Sunday  morning,  and  all  of  us  knelt 
together  for  the  last  time. 

"Now  Oliver  and  Watson  are  dead,  father  is  to  be 
hanged  to-morrow,  I  am  a  fugitive  with  a  large  reward 
over  me  and  most  of  the  others  are  either  dead  or  soon 
will  be. 

"We  left  Kennedy  Farm  at  dusk  Sunday,  October  16, 
1859.  In  our  party  there  were,  besides  father ;  Watson, 
Oliver  and  I,  Marriam,  the  two  Coppic  boys.  Cook,  Tidd, 
Kagi,  Taylor,  Bill  Thompson,  Hazlett,  Copeland,  Leary, 
Greene,  Anderson  and  several  other  men. 

"Father  rode  in  the  wagon  and  the  others  walked  two 
by  two,  all  but  Marriam,  Cook,  Barclay,  Coppic  and  my- 
self, who  were  left  to  guard  the  arms  and  other  effects 
until  we  heard  from  the  raid. 

"Tidd  came  out  to  us  in  the  morning  stating  that  the 
battle  was  going  on  fiercely  and  that  our  men  were  being 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides.  Then  he  reported  that  more  than 
fifty  had  been  killed,  the  Mayor  of  Harper's  Ferry  had 
been  shot,  and  Watson  and  Oliver  were  dead ;  so,  upon 
this  report  we  decided  to  flee  from  the  scene  and  leave 
all  behind. 

110 


LOOKING  BACK  111 

"We  hastily  ate  and  fixed  up  as  much  lunch  as  we 
could  carry,  when  Marriam,  Coppic,  Cook,  Tidd  and 
myself  ran  across  the  country  to  Maryland  Heights, 
where  we  could  view  the  scene  but  could  not  help. 

"At  first  we  saw  no  troops,  but  hundreds  of  men 
from  behind  trees,  rocks  and  buildings  firing  at  our  men, 
who,  as  yet,  held  the  town.  We  could  see  father,  with 
s\vord  in  hand,  walking  about  apparently  encouraging 
the  men. 

"Soon  we  saw  a  squad  of  more  than  a  hundred  sol- 
diers leave  the  bridge  and  march  down  the  street  towards 
father  and  his  few  men,  and  could  see  father  begin  pre- 
paring for  the  onslaught. 

"When  they  were  about  two  hundred  feet  distant 
father  apparently  gave  the  word  to  fire,  and  it  was  kept 
up  until  two  of  our  men  and  more  than  twenty  of  their 
troop  lay  dead  in  the  street,  while  their  live  ones  retreated 
in  confusion  to  the  covered  bridge  from  whence  they 
came. 

"Truly  it  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  father,  an  old 
man,  with  a  handful  of  mountaineers  holding  the  town  of 
Harper's  Ferry  against  that  company  of  Maryland  regu- 
lars, besides  receiving  an  occasional  shot  from  behind 
buildings  or  other  places  of  safety.  He  was  facing  odds 
of  more  than  fifty  to  one,  who,  not  knowing  what  father's 
re-enforcements  might  be,  were  really  panic  stricken. 

"Through  continuous  firing,  one  after  another  of  our 
few  men  were  shot  down,  until  father  abandoned  the 
arsenal  and  seemed  to  be  barricading  the  engine  house 
with  his  few  men,  probably  not  more  than  three  or  four 
besides  himself. 

"Colonel  Robert  E.  Lee,  with  a  company  of  United 
States  Marines,  appeared  just  before  dark  but  did  not 


112  LOOKING  BACK 

attempt  to  capture  the  enemy's  stronghold  in  the  engine 
house,  possibly  because  he  had  heard  the  rumor  that 
father  had  three  or  four  thousand  men  in  the  mountains 
waiting   his    command. 

"Knowing  that  anything  more  on  our  part  to  help 
father  would  virtually  be  suicide,  we  gathered  up  our 
effects  and  started  on  our  night  tramp  through  the  Blue 
Ridge  Mountains  in  a  northwesterly  direction. 

"We  traveled  in  the  roads  strung  out  about  ten  rods 
apart,  myself  in  advance,  so  when  I  met  anyone  I  would 
engage  him  in  conversation  until  the  other  boys  were  con- 
cealed from  the  view  of  the  road.  When  passing  villages 
we  climbed  the  fences  and  ran  around. 

"Soon  our  food  was  ear  corn,  which  we  pillaged  from 
the  farmers.  This  we  could  not  pop  or  roast,  as  we  dare 
not  build  a  fire.  We  could  travel  in  the  rain  nights,  but 
we  could  not  sleep  days  when  it  was  wet  and  cold,  and  we 
suffered  terribly.  After  several  days  suffering.  Cook  pro- 
posed to  venture  into  the  town  for  food,  to  which  Tidd 
strongly  objected  and  I  often  had  my  hands  full  trying  to 
quiet  their  quarrels. 

"About  the  sixth  day  out  we  slept  on  a  mountain  which 
overlooked  Ole  Forge,  near  Chambersburg,  Pa.,  where 
Cook  was  determined  to  go  down  for  food,  which  he  did, 
and  never  returned,  and  as  you  know,  was  captured  and 
will  soon  share  the  fate  of  others  at  Charlestown. 

"Marriam  was  now  so  weak  that  he  could  go  no  fur- 
ther, and  I  at  a  great  risk,  got  him  down  to  Chambers- 
burg, where  he  boarded  a  train  without  detection.  Then 
we  were  but  three." 

"Fearing  that  Cook  might  be  forced  to  reveal  our 
whereabouts  and  intentions,  we  traveled  all  that  night 
back  towards  the  hill  from  whence  we  came,  making  our 


LOOKING  BACK  113 

course  as  zigzag  as  possible,  so  detectives  would  be  un- 
able to  design  our  intentions  or  lay  in  wait  for  us. 

"The  third  day  after  Cook's  capture,  an  old  lady  hunt- 
ing nuts  in  the  woods  came  spank  upon  us,  while  we  were 
sleeping  in  the  sun.  We  were  still  near  Chambersburg 
and  from  what  she  had  heard  she  knew  who  we  were, 
and  told  us  so.  To  kill  her  would  be  wrong,  to  let  her 
go  back  and  report  would  be  dangerous ;  but  she  soon  put 
us  at  ease  by  telling  about  her  abolition  friends  in  Massa- 
chusetts and  how  her  son,  with  whom  she  lived,  and  all 
her  neighbors  would  help  us  on  the  way. 

"We  trusted  her  and  at  dark  we  found  ourselves  in 
her  son's  home  eating  chicken-pie  and  drinking  hot  cof- 
fee, which  we  had  not  partaken  of  in  ten  days.  Soon 
another  sympathizer  came  in  and  the  two  men  arranged 
to  take  us  on  our  journey  as  far  as  they  could  before 
morning. 

"When  we  were  small,  father  used  to  tell  us  children 
about  the  angels  and  I  formed  the  idea  that  they  were 
sweet,  lovely  and  looked  beautiful,  but  oh,  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, that  dear  old  lady,  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her 
just  as  she  looked  to  me  that  night,  stepping  around  so 
softly  to  make  us  comfortable.  Why,  Thompson,  she 
seemed  so  handsome,  while  looking  through  my  tears  I 
actually  think  she  might  have  been  an  angel  which  God 
sent  to  comfort  us.  When  we  were  ready  to  start,  she 
put  her  arm  around  each  of  our  necks  and  kissed  us,  say- 
ing, 'We  will  play  that  I  am  your  mother,  just  for  tonight.' 

"Acting  on  our  host's  guarantee,  we  rode  boldly  down 
through  Chambersburg,  where  Cook  had  just  been  taken, 
but  all  was  well.  At  break  of  day,  when  about  forty-five 
miles  away,  we  jumped  out  with  our  luggage,  eight  loaves 


114  LOOKING  BACK 

of  bread  and  part  of  a  boiled  ham,  and  fled  into  the 
woods. 

"Now  we  found  ourselves  among  the  Quakers,  who 
fed  and  protected  us,  and  in  a  few  days  we  separated,  I 
working  my  way  to  you,  and  here  I  am  tonight. 

"Father  taught  his  followers  that  the  move  on  Har- 
per's Ferry  would  precipitate  conditions  which  would  free 
the  slaves.  If,  as  we  believe,  God  was  leading  him,  it 
surely  will,  for  dark  as  it  appears  to  us  today,  it  may 
be  all  right  when  viewed  by  the  coming  generations." 

Then  in  a  voice,  just  like  old  John  Brown  himself, 
Owen  softly  sang  a  verse  of  the  hymn,  "God  Moves  in  a 
Mysterious  Way  His  Wonders  to  Perform."  We  rode 
a  little  way  in  silence  and  again  he  struck  up : 

"Let  us  love  one  another  as  long  as  we  stay 

Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  way." 


AFTER  THE  MIST  HAD  CLEARED  AWAY 

Forty-six  years  have  passed  since  the  sixteen  year  old 
Vida  played  her  part  so  well  in  the  strange  drama  of 
freedom's  birth,  and  now,  in  an  automobile  tour  to  the 
coast  of  Maine  with  my  wife,  Mary  Prickett,  and  our 
sixteen  year  old  Vida,  who  to  me,  is  a  veritable  imprint 
of  the  afore-characterized  Vida  Thompson.  I  again  travel 
the  winding  roads  of  the  old  Adirondack  Mountains. 

We  visit  the  John  Brown  farm,  sit  in  his  easy  chair, 
and  climb  the  great  rock  which  silently  stands  sentinel 
where,  in  turn,  the  cold  winter's  blasts  in  their  wild  mid- 
night ride  howl  weirdly,  and  the  sweet  spring  mornings 
awaken  the  forest  song  birds  who  shy  their  nests  among 
the  wild  flowers  near  the  grace  of  the  old  Hero — John 
Brown. 

The  Browns  are  gone  from  North  Elba.  New  York 
State  has  secured  possession  of  the  farm  and  erected  a 
fitting  monument  to  the  memory  of  John  Brown.  When 
the  old  home  is  gone,  and  the  monument  has  been  re- 
placed, the  great  rock  will  stand  there  just  as  Brown 
found  it,  seeming  to  say,  "I  alone  will  stay  and  guard  his 
long  repose." 

Strangers  now  live  in  the  Thompson  home,  the  ever- 
green on  Jobe's  Hill  is  seen  no  more,  the  long  wooden 
bridge  over  which  Old  Jim  thundered  out  the  distant 
echo  as  he  hastened  the  fair  Vida  through  the  mountains, 
has  been  replaced  and  each  fair  day,  as  the  evening  sun 
nears  Ontario's  restless  waves,  it  kisses  a  fond  adieu  to 
115 


116  LOOKING  BACK 

the  little  cemetery  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thompson  sleep, 
while  a  little  child  smoothes  Grandma  Vida's  silver  locks 
on  yonder's  distant  shore  where  the  grand  old  Pacific 
ebbs  and  flows  as  time  rolls  on. 


YANKEE  HORSEMEN  GO  WEST 

The  following  year,  1865,  it  appears  Gordon  and  I 
were  not  satisfied  to  let  well  enough  alone,  so  we  gave  up 
our  lucrative  business  for  something  more  leisurely,  by 
going  into  Batavia,  New  York,  as  fruit  dealers.  We  had 
a  stack  of  money  and  pitched  right  in,  buying  up  whole 
orchards  and  paying  approximately  40  per  cent  down,  and 
when  apples  declined  from  $8.00  to  $5.00  per  barrel  we 
had  hardly  enough  money  left  to  get  out  of  town  with, 
but  our  brother,  Collins,  loaned  us  all  we  needed  and  we 
struck  out  again  at  our  old  business,  undaunted,  as  though 
nothing  had  happened. 

The  next  year,  1866,  we  three  brothers,  with  our 
wives,  and  all  our  teams  hung  out  for  the  winter  at 
Cleveland,  Ohio. 

Collins  and  Martha. 

Merrick  and  Mary. 

Gordon  and  Amanda. 
In  the  spring,  1867,  with  about  fifty  teams,  we  scat- 
tered over  the  south  and  west  planning  a  rendezvous  on 
the  Mississippi  River,  where  we  all  grouped  for  about 
three  months.  Our  evenings  of  sport  are  better  remem- 
bered than  imagined.  We  had  expanded  our  business 
until  there  were  nearly  100  of  us,  playing  tricks  on  each 
other,  wrestling,  lifting,  swimming,  running  horses,  tell- 
ing stories,  singing  songs,  etc. 

One  of  our  men,  a  hostler,  named  Kelly,  made  an 
impromptu  speech  one  evening,  which  was  comical,  but 
117 


118  LOOKING  BACK 

without  the  surroundings  could  not  be  appreciated.  Ram- 
son  Young  started  an  old-time  school  play  of  snapping 
the  whip.  It  consisted  of  a  captain  standing  at  his  post 
and  as  many  as  were  take  hold  of  hands  and  when  he 
gave  the  word,  all  start  on  a  swing  to  run  around  him. 
Of  course,  the  outer  one  must  run  faster  and  the  trick 
was  to  all  pull  the  outer  or  tail  man  off  his  feet  and  see 
him  try  to  save  himself  from  falling.  They  got  Kelly 
on  the  end  and  when  he  came  around  the  next  man  let 
go  of  his  hand,  his  body  got  ahead  of  his  legs  and  he 
ran  among  the  tables  and  dishes  and  through  the  camp 
fire  in  his  big  bare  feet,  before  he  could  stop,  but  did  not 
catch  on  that  it  was  intentional. 

Next  evening  the  boys  gathered  again  and  when  Kelly 
saw  that  he  would  be  on  the  tail  end,  he  let  go,  and 
stepping  onto  a  stump  said  :  "Gentlemen,  I  am  a  Hoosier, 
born  in  the  .State  of  Indiana,  and  an  uneducated  man,  but 
you  will  never  again  get  me  on  the  tail  end  of  that  'ere." 
I  did  not  like  to  see  Young  impose  on  Kelly,  so  I  em- 
braced the  first  opportunity  to  even  up  matters.  One 
evening  while  waiting  in  camp  for  supper,  near  Duluth, 
Kelly  was  exhibiting  his  new  shotgun,  when  Young  said 
to  me :  "I'm  going  to  bet  with  Kelly  he  cannot  hit  my 
new  hat  at  twenty  paces,  and  you  must  load  the  gun, 
but  put  in  no  shot." 

"I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  you  will,  Mr.  Richardson;  this  is  just  for  a 
joke." 

"I  tell  you  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  tricks." 

"Kelly,"  he  cried,  "I  will  bet  you  a  quarter  that  you 
cannot  hit  my  new  hat  at  twenty  paces,  and  Mr.  Richard- 
son says  he  will  load  the  gun." 


LOOKING  BACK  119 

"All  right,"  says  Kelly,  "Richardson  is  honest ;  I  will 
trust  him." 

I  again  refused,  but  when  they  both  insisted  I  took 
the  new  gun  and  amunition  and  when  out  of  sight  I  put 
in,  not  only  a  good  charge  of  powder,  but  a  whole  hand- 
ful of  buckshot,  and  when  I  delivered  it,  Young  said  to 
Kelly:  "Suppose  we  make  it  fifty  cents  instead  of  a 
quarter?"     "All  right,"  said  Kelly. 

By  this  time  all  the  boys  were  excited,  for  they  knew 
Kelly  could  hit  the  hat,  and  Young  began  betting  five 
and  ten  cents  each,  with  them,  until  he  had  nearly  two 
dollars  up  and  his  new  straw  hat  on  stake. 

Young  caught  me  smiling,  and  looked  at  little  scared 
as  he  whispered,  "There  is  no  shot  in  the  gun?"  to  which 
I  paid  no  attention.  Now  Kelly  squared  himself  and 
took  aim  long  and  steady  and  then  fired.  Of  course, 
blowing  the  new  hat  all  to  driblets. 

Young  gave  me  one  wicked  glance  and  then  stood 
around  like  a  rooster  in  the  rain,  and  when  the  joke 
got  out  he  simply  remarked,  "If  a  man  cannot  trust  a 
preacher,  who  can  he  trust?" 

We  had  a  ministerial  looking  fellow  w^ith  us,  who 
gave  his  name  as  Wilson  from  New  Jersey.  He  had 
worked  for  us  but  a  few  months  when  one  morning  three 
men  came  up  and  stopped  one  of  our  teams.  Wilson, 
who  was  driving  a  front  team,  looked  back,  and,  dropping 
his  rein,  ran  for  the  woods,  nearly  a  half  mile  distant, 
looking  neither  to  the  right  or  left  until  he  disappeared 
into  the  bushes.  Next  day,  going  through  a  piece  of 
woods,,!  heard  Wilson's  voice,  "Is  everything  all  right?" 
and  when  told  that  the  men  only  wanted  to  buy  a  horse, 
he  still  suspected  that  he  had  seen  one  of  them  before. 


120  LOOKING  BACK 

Although  he  was  with  us  until  near  the  end  of  our  trav- 
els he  never  told  us  why  he  ran  so  fast. 

Of  course,  our  lives  were  full  of  peculiar  incidents. 
Mr.  Young,  who  deputized  me  to  load  the  gun,  delighted 
in  telling  the  fortunes  of  those  who  came  around  the 
camp  fire  in  the  evening,  and  it  was  rich  to  listen  to  him 
when  he  had  a  fellow  and  girl  on  the  string,  who  were 
really  serious. 


MY  RELATION 

We  camped  over  Sunday  near  the  home  of  a  distant 
relative  of  mine,  who  had  come  out  west  many  years 
before  and  had  been  prosperous.  He  was  a  great  big 
generous  farmer  of  about  seventy-five  years,  who  en- 
joyed our  stories  and  songs  hugely,  while  he  supplied 
our  camp  with  eggs,  ham,  chicken,  cream  and  vegetables. 
One  of  his  neighbors  told  me  a  secret  about  the  old  man's 
narrow  escape  from  death,  which  I  have  not  forgotten. 

It  appears  that  after  his  first  wife's  death,  the  old 
chap  married  a  young  woman  of  the  neighborhood,  who 
made  him  an  excellent  wife,  although  there  was  a  slight 
blemish  of  character  on  the  family  from  which  she  came. 
It  seems  that  before  the  marriage  he  had  agreed  never 
to  twit  her  about  her  relation,  but  had  broken  over  sev- 
eral times,  for  which  she  had  warned  him  to  desist  if  he 
valued  his  life. 

One  day,  as  the  stor}^  went,  she  was  making  pies 
and  he  was  in  the  kitchen  tormenting  her.  for  which 
she  gave  him  tit  for  tat  until  he  remarked.  "Well,  thank 
the  Lord  I  was  reared  in  a  family  of  God-fearing  and 
law-abiding  citizens."  She  uttered  an  unprintable  phrase, 
and  drew  a  butcher  knife  from  the  table  drawer.  It  was 
the  one  which  the  old  gent  had  often  used  to  slay  pigs  and 
calves,  but  he  had  never  dreamed  it  would  one  day  be 
used  to  wind  up  his  own  earthly  career. 

A  glance  at  the  keen,  ugly  blade  caused  him  to  un- 
ceremoniously discontinue  the  argument  and  rush  out 
121 


122  LOOKING  BACK 

the  back  door  crying,  "Help !  Help !"  Knowing  the 
unscrupulous  character  of  the  family  to  which  his  sweet- 
heart belonged,  and  the  heat  to  which  he  had  fired  her 
passion,  he,  without  stopping  to  either  pray  or  swear, 
lit  out  for  the  orchard,  hoping  to  distance  his  fair  pur- 
surer  and  climb  a  tree. 

In  this  horrid  dilemma  of  running  while  looking,  both 
before  and  behind,  he  forgot  about  the  old  unused  wel! 
without  a  curb,  and  just  as  she  was  about  to  plunge  the 
awful  knife,  he  dropped  into  the  well  just  deep  enough 
to  save  himself  from  decapitation. 

"I  was  one,"  said  the  relator,  "to  help  old  John  out 
of  the  well  and  patch  up  an  armistice,  which  I  think  he 
has  held  sacred,  and  twitted  his  wife  no  more  about  her 
relation." 


HORSE  JOCKIES 

We  had  now  abandoned  our  tin  peddling  business  ex- 
cept as  a  means  of  settling  expense  bills,  and  had  become 
successful  horse  dealers. 

Our  fine  horses  gave  us  a  sort  of  prestige  and  welcome 
in  traveling  over  the  country.  Our  lookout  for  bargains 
was  always  in  unmanageable  young  horses,  which  usually 
became  docile  through  kind  treatment.  Of  the  three 
brothers,  Collins  was  the  best  judge  of  a  horse,  while 
Gordon  and  I  were  close  buyers.  Our  method  was  to 
trade  for  or  buy  unmanageable  young  sound  horses  and 
put  them  on  the  wheel  of  a  four-horse  team.  After  they 
had  fought  and  tired  themselves  out  they  would  come 
along  and  soon  be  working  all  right.  In  this  way  we 
could  tame  the  ugliest  animals  and  never  whip  them. 
Then  they  were  for  sale  and  would  please  the  buyer. 
Sometimes  we  had  more  than  one  hundred  horses,  which 
gave  a  good  selection  for  the  buyer. 

A  few  of  our  men  were  on  good  salary,  but  many 
were  hangers  on. 

Frank  Button,  from  Vermont,  was  ahvays  on  hand 
in  the  time  of  trouble.  He  was  kind-hearted,  but  when 
on  a  lark  was  always  looking  for  the  bully  of  the  town. 
The  Aurora  papers  came  out  one  morning  with  large 
headlines,  stating  that  Ben  Grim,  the  "Terror  or  Ter- 
rier" of  Aurora,  had  tackled  one  of  Richardson's  horse 
jockies,  named  Button,  wdio  although  appearing  like  a 
123 


124  LOOKING  BACK 

common  cloth-bound  wooden-button,  proved  to  have  been 
brass  inside,  but  it  was  hoped  that  Grim  would  live. 

At  Davenport  we  camped  over  Sunday  on  the  river 
just  north  of  the  town,  where  the  Methodist  minister  (a 
jolly  good  fellow)  thought  to  invite  us  to  come  and  hear 
him  preach.  In  coming  up  through  the  teams  he  chanced 
to  climb  the  six-horse  van  to  see  how  things  looked 
inside.  Tiger,  the  one-eyed  brindle  pup,  could  not  stand 
for  that,  and  when  we  all  rushed  to  see  what  the  stranger 
was  yelling  about,  we  found  the  minister  swinging  from 
the  top  bar  of  the  Broad  Gauge  by  both  hands,  while 
Tiger  was  swinging  from  the  seat  of  the  minister's  pants 
by  his  teeth.  Our  liberal  donation  for  his  new  pants  vir- 
tually healed  the  breach,  but  that  evening,  when  in  his 
sermon  he  lauded  us  for  our  Christian  benevolence  and 
sympathy,  he  said  nothing  about  the  seat  of  his  pants, 
nor  even. mentioned  the  faithfulness  of  our  beloved  Tiger. 

At  Evansville  I  boarded  an  Ohio  River  steamer  for 
Louisville,  on  which  there  were  four  colored  men,  accus- 
tomed to  singing  old  plantation  melodies  at  each  landing. 
I  took  them  with  us  through  the  hills  of  old  Kentucky 
for  several  weeks  and  we  all  learned  to  sing  their  songs. 
I  am  wishing  now  I  could  be  in  that  old  camp  once  more, 
and  hear  those  voices  again : 

"Oh,  Dearest  May,  You're  Lovelier  Than  the  Day,'* 
•'Down  on  the  Old  P.  D.,"  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home  Far 
Away,"  "Darling  Nelly  Gray,"  and  the  like. 

Prosperity  and  joy  were  with  us  in  every  way,  and 
never  in  all  our  travels  did  we  have  a  man  get  severely 
hurt.  We  three  brothers  were  strong,  athletic  and  humor- 
ous and  always  made  companions  of  our  men. 

Our  foot  and  horse  racing  was  often  exciting.  Our 
Inst  foot  race  was  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  where  after  we 


LOOKING  BACK  125 

three  brothers  had  outdone  all  the  men  we  ran  it  off 
between  ourselves  on  the  Lake  Shore,  where  Collins  won, 
but  I  told  him  it  was  just  by  the  length  of  his  nose. 

Some  of  us  were  good  marksmen,  but  when  we  run 
on  to  a  backwoodsman  in  Missouri,  who  had  about  a 
dozen  squirrels  he  had  killed  that  morning,  all  shot  in. 
the  eye  except  one,  which  was  hit  in  the  ear,  for  which 
he  apologized,  as  he  declared  that  in  the  tallest  tree  he 
was  able  to  hit  ninety-nine  out  of  one  hundred  in  the 
eye,  we  boasted  no  more  about  our  marksmanship. 

If  Frank  and  Jesse  James,  the  notorious  outlaws  of 
the  Wild  West,  ever  visited  our  camp,  we  did  not  know  it. 
I  visited  their  old  home  twice  while  in  Missouri,  and 
listened  to  their  mother's  story  about  her  boys  she  loved 
so  well.  At  that  time  the  State  of  Missouri  had  out 
rewards,  in  the  aggregate  of  more  than  $50,000  for  their 
capture,  dead  or  alive. 


LANDED  IN  CHICAGO 

In  the  fall,  Collins  and  Gordon  returned  to  Con- 
necticut, while  I,  having  spent  much  time  in  the  South, 
laid  up  in  Cleveland  for  the  winter.  They  returned  to 
Cleveland  in  the  spring,  when  at  the  solicitation  of  our 
dear  wives  we  decided  to  dispose  of  as  many  of  our  teams 
as  possible  during  the  summer  and  locate  permanently  in 
some  large  city,  which  we  did,  and  in  the  fall  of  1868. 
with  about  100  horses  and  seventy-five  men,  we  landed 
in  Chicago. 

We  purchased  the  northwest  corner  of  Canal  and 
Lake  Streets,  running  to  the  alley  each  way.  Besides 
some  little  stores  on  Lake  Street,  there  was  an  immense 
ice  house  and  a  large  wooden  structure  occupied  by  Gar- 
land, Downs  &  Holmes,  as  sales  station  of  a  carriage 
manufacturer  in  Boston.  These  gave  us  ample  room  for 
all  our  teams,  but  before  our  titles  were  perfected  the 
city  condemned  most  of  the  property  in  opening  Dutch 
Broadway  (Milwaukee  Avenue)  into  Lake  Street,  and 
althovigh  we  never  came  into  legal  possession  of  the 
property  the  city's  appraisement  was  su'^h  that  ovu"  pur- 
chase left  us  a  good  bonus  besides  our  occupation  of 
the  building  for  over  a  year.  We  then  lived  over  stores 
on  Canal  Street,  where  the  Chicago  &  Northwestern 
Depot  now  stands. 

In  1869  we  bought  property  on  both  sides  of  Lake 
Street,  in  the  second  block  west  of  Western  Avenue, 
where  we  built  homes  on  the  south  and  a  factory  on 
126 


LOOKING  BACK  127 

the  north  side  of  the  street.  A\'e  then  sold  our  teams, 
mostly  to  our  men  on  the  installment  plan,  holding  the 
l)roperty  in  our  name  until  paid  for.  Then  we  started 
manufacturing  tinware,  working  about  fifty  tinners,  sell- 
ing the  ware  to  those  who  bought  the  teams.  It  was  a 
success.  Soon  all  the  teams  were  off  our  hands,  and  the 
once  prolific  and  romantic  business  and  escapades  of 
the  three  Richardson  brothers  had  entirely  disappeared. 

In  1872  Collins  sold  out  to  Gordon  and  me,  he  return- 
ing to  Connecticut  and  settling  down  on  a  farm. 

In  1874  we  sold  out  the  tin  factory,  and  Gordon, 
who  had  always  been  a  lover  of  fast  horses,  began  deal- 
ing in  them  again. 

I,  who  had  all  the  time  been  exhorting  and  writing 
books,  entered  the  Evanston  Theological  Seminary,  pre- 
paring for  the  ministry,  but  when  Dr.  H.  W.  Thomas 
experienced  his  troubles  with  Rock  River  Conference. 
I  abandoned  that  course,  but  kept  up,  through  private 
instructors,  the  languages  and  scientific  studies  for  five 
years,  including  one  year  of  experimental  astronomy  on 
the  great  telescope  then  at  Cottage  Grove. 


DR.  THOMAS 

Thomas'  ideas  moulded  my  thoughts  into  hnes  of 
truth.  He  was  a  good  man,  a  profound  scholar  and  deep 
thinker,  but  lived  before  his  time.  The  following  I  copy 
from  his  thoughts : 

THE   ORIGIN   AND  DESTINY   OF    MAN 
BY    H.    W.    THOMAS,   D.D. 

We  say  that  this  is  the  12th  day  of  December.  We 
say  that  this  is  the  year  1870.  We  say  that  it  is  the 
Sabbath  evening,  and  that  we  are  gathered  here  in  the 
house  of  worship.  We  say  that  we  look  into  each  other's 
faces,  and  that  you  hear  my  words.  But  is  this  a  dream, 
or  is  it  reality?  For  in  the  night-time  we  have  often 
dreamed  that  we  have  seen  large  assemblages ;  we  have 
heard  music  and  singing;  we  have  listened  to  sermon  or 
lecture ;  we  have  loved,  we  have  hoped,  we  have  wept,  we 
have  been  glad — and  in  the  morning  we  have  found  it 
was  only  a  dream.  There  have  not  been  wanting,  in  our 
world's  history,  those  who  have  held  that  all  our  day-life 
is  only  another  kind  of  a  day-dream.  And,  when  we  come 
to  think  of  it,  it  is  not  the  easiest  thing  to  disprove  this. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  prove  that  I  am  here  better  than 
just  to  say  so.  I  do  not  know  how  I  can  be  much  more 
certain  of  the  fact  than  I  am  of  certain  facts  in  my 
dreams.  Yet  somehow  we  feel  that  there  is  something 
more  in  this  life  than  simply  an  illusion,  and  I  guess  that 
128 


H.  W.  THOMAS,  D.  D. 

'l    AM    GLAD    THAT    IMMORTALITY    IS    NOT    ONLY    A    FAITH    BUT 

A    GREAT    FACT.     I    AM    GLAD    THAT    WHILE    THE    SNOWS 

OP  WINTER  MAY  LIE  OVER  THE  GRAVES  OP  LOVED 

ONES,  THEIR  SPIRITS  ARE  UP  WITH  GOD." 


LOOKING  BACK  129 

our  senses  do  not  deceive  us.  The  revolving  earth  is 
beneath  our  feet ;  the  heavens  are  above  our  heads.  But 
if  this  be  so,  how  came  we  here?  How  and  whence  did 
we  come  ?  Are  we  the  results  of  some  process  of  mate- 
rial nature,  the  fortuitous  concurrence  of  innumerable 
atoms,  or  are  we  the  creatures  of  a  living  God?  Is  there 
an  order  and  a  plan  about  our  being?  Shall  our  days 
end  with  the  autumn  and  the  snow,  or  will  there  be  a 
spring  time?  and  shall  we  wake  in  the  long  tomorrow 
and  be  forever?  Now  we  may  ask,  "Is  this  that  we  call 
death  the  end  of  our  being?"  It  seems  to  me,  if  we 
get  a  correct  view  of  death,  that  it  is  only  another  form 
of  birth.  Personally,  I  think  that  one  coming  down  to 
a  point  of  dying  may  find  it  something  like  the  setting 
of  the  sun.  Had  we  never  seen  the  going  down  of  our 
sun,  we  would  dread  the  thought  of  darkness  coming  on. 
Men  would  gather  in  the  deepest  alarm  as  the  great  orb 
began  to  descend  in  the  west.  They  would  gaze  anxiously 
at  the  last  lingering  rays  on  the  tree-tops  and  hill-tops. 
But  as  the  sun  gradually  disappeared,  and  darkness  began 
to  settle  over  them,  they  would  see  in  the  distance  a 
twinkling  star ;  and  as  they  looked  at  this,  another  would 
appear,  and  another,  and  another,  till,  as  they  stood  gaz- 
ing, the  whole  starry  heavens  would  shine  out  before 
them.  Instead  of  the  going  down  of  the  sun  being  an 
eclipse,  it  only  makes  visible  the  splendor  of  the  heavens. 
So  we  should  go  down  to  dying,  thinking  of  the  change 
as  only  revealing  to  us  the  vaster  universe  beyond. 

Socrates,  before  he  died,  said  he  expected  soon  to  be 
with  Homer,  and  Hesiod,  and  Orpheus,  and  Musaius. 
Cicero  apostrophized  his  departed  daughter,  and  said  he 
would  meet  her  in  the  realms  of  the  blest.  Dante  thought 
to  find  his  Beatrice  in  the  spirit-life. 


130  LOOKING  BACK 

As  I  stand  here,  it  seems  like  a  dream  that  I  am 
talking  to  you  in  the  light  of  this  beautiful  room ;  that 
the  time  will  soon  come  when  others  shall  be  here  and 
we  shall  be  gone.  Yes,  my  friends,  the  strange  mystery 
lies  before  us. 


EARLY  CHICAGO 

Chicago,  then  about  300,000  inhabitants,  was  virtually 
in  the  hands  of  the  gang.  The  heelers  from  the  assessors' 
office  boldly  reduced  the  valuation  on  property  to  those 
who  stood  their  assessments  for  what  they  called  elec- 
tioneering purposes,  while  raising  the  assessment  on 
those  who  refused  to  bribe,  until  the  burden  on  the  honest 
taxpayer  became  griveous  to  bear. 

Cases  are  said  to  be  on  record  where  two  vacant  lots 
lying  side  by  side  were  assessed,  one  five  times  as  much 
as  the  other,  and  that  not  one  of  our  aldermen  paid  per- 
sonal property  tax,  while  families  whose  income  was 
less  than  $400.00  per  year,  were  heavily  assessed  on  their 
household  effects. 

John  AA'entworth  ("Long  John"),  one  of  Chicago's 
early  mayors,  who  had  fought  the  Indians  at  Fort  Dear- 
born, with  several  other  large  land  holders,  refused  to 
pay  their  taxes  until  the  court  of  last  resort  decided 
they  must  pay  as  assessed,  but  the  effect  of  the  attempt 
was  good,  for  the  following  year  the  valuation  on  real 
estate  was  cut  down  nearly  one-half. 

This  so  diminished  the  income  of  the  Cook  County 
wolves  that  a  panic  ensued,  which  incensed  the  ever- 
irritable  element  and  finally  swelled  into  anarchy,  con- 
summating in  the  Haymarket  Riot,  in  1886,  in  which 
several  officers  were  maimed  or  killed,  and  for  which  a 
few  of  the  chief  conspiring  anarchists  were  executed,  and 
thus  civilization  was  restored. 
131 


132  LOOKING  BACK 

Good  men  were  then  selected  for  responsible  positions, 
while  the  dirty  constables  and  rotten,  self-elected  magis- 
trates, who  held  courts  in  extreme  corners  of  the  county, 
where  victims  were  summoned  to  appear,  only  to  find  that 
judgment  had  been  rendered  against  them,  were  at  last 
stamped  under  the  heels  of  decency. 

Mr.  Story,  editor  of  the  Chicago  Times,  who  had 
amassed  a  large  fortune,  as  the  story  ran,  became  in- 
fatuated with  a  feminine  spiritual  medium,  who  acted 
both  as  advisor  and  architect  in  the  construction  of  a 
marble  mansion  on  Grand  Boulevard,  whose  apparent 
cost  would  have  been  four  times  his  capital.  The  warmth 
of  the  medium  did  not  ofifset  the  chill  of  old  age,  and 
becoming  weary,  he  laid  down  the  burden  of  life  and  the 
mansion  was  never  completed. 

Philip  Hoyne  was  perhaps  then  the  most  noted  crim- 
inal lawyer  in  Chicago,  and  this  was  the  story  of  how 
he  first  became  famous. 

A  man  had  been  arrested  for  horse  stealing  who  haa 
no  lawyer  and  the  judge  appointed  Hoyne,  then  a  young 
man,  to  defend  him. 

"\Miat  shall  I  do  for  him?"  inquired  Hoyne. 

"Clear  him  if  you  can,"  said  the  judge. 

Hovne  took  the  prisoner  into  the  ante-room,  used 
for  counsel,  and  said  to  him : 

"Mr.  O'Flerity,  did  you  steal  the  horse?" 

"I  did,  your  honor," 

"Do  you  expect  to  go  to  the  penitentiary?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  clear  you?" 

"If  you  can  do  it.  I  swear  by  the  Holy  Virgin  Mary 
that  I  will  come  to  your  wake  and  bring  all  me  relations." 


LOOKING  BACK  133 

Hoyne  raised  the  window  and  said,  "Do  you  see  those 
woods  yonder?" 

"Indade,  I  do,  sir." 

"Now,  I  will  hold  my  watch  and  see  how  long  it  takes 
you  to  run  there." 

When  Hoyne  returned  to  court  the  judge  inquired 
where  his  client  was. 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Did  I  not  place  him  in  your  charge?" 

"Yes,  but  you  said,  'Clear  him  if  you  can,'  and  the 
last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  entering  the  woods  about  two 
miles  away." 


HORSE  RACING  IN  CHICAGO 

Mr.  Billings,  the  original  West  Side  gas  monopolist, 
had  a  pacer  which  could  go  on  the  street  2  :40  or  better, 
and  my  brother  Grodon  drove  Tom,  the  silver-tailed 
trotter,  who  could  crowd  2 :30  very  close.  Billings  lived 
on  Lake  Street,  near  Union  Park,  while  we  lived  farther 
west,  and  we  used  to  race  horses  nearly  every  day. 

One  noon,  on  going  home  to  lunch,  Billings  tackled 
us  on  Washington  Street  for  a  race.  Tom  drawing  us 
two  was  a  little  handicapped,  so  it  made  the  race  about 
an  even  thing.  Billings  becaxne  so  excited  that  he  did  not 
turn  off  at  Sheldon  Street,  to  his  home,  but  kept  on 
through  Union  Park.  When  at  Robey  Street  we  en- 
countered a  fat  colored  woman  and  her  dog  crossing  the 
street.  A  policeman  saw  us  coming  and  tried  to  get  her 
out  of  the  way,  but  we  ran  over  the  whole  bunch. 

We  turned  right  back  to  the  policeman,  who  knew 
Billings  had  been  instrumental  in  getting  him  his  job. 
He  said  he  was  not  much  hurt,  only  his  shins  ached 
terribly  where  we  had  run  over  them  with  both  wheels. 
The  woman  had  been  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  mud, 
but  she  said  she  did  not  care,  only  for  her  dog. 

We  decided  on  the  officer's  advise  that  it  was  better 
to  settle  the  case  out  of  court,  so  we  gave  the  woman  a 
dollar  for  her  dog.  The  next  noon  we  had  the  race  over 
again,  and  really  it  was  rich  to  hear  Billings  and  my 
brother  both  tell  how  easily  they  would  have  won  had  not 
their  horses  gone  into  the  air. 
134 


LOOKING  BACK  135 

We  West  Siders  had  what  we  called  the  gentlemen's 
race  track,  on  the  south  wing  of  Central  Park  (Garfield 
Park).  Every  Saturday  afternoon  many  of  the  promi- 
nent men  with  their  wives  and  fast  horses  assembled 
there,  one  to  show  the  other  how  easy  his  horse  could 
do  the  other  fellow's  nag  up. 

Mr.  Eighmy,  a  man  past  75  years,  usually  had  a  fine 
stepper  and  he  was  a  good  driver.  One  day  in  a  race 
of  five  or  six,  we  could  see  from  the  grandstand  that 
on  turning  into  the  back  stretch  they  had  purposely  en- 
closed the  old  gent  in  a  pocket,  allowing  Wrigley  with 
Fly-Away  and  my  brother  Gordon  with  Tom  to  pass 
on  the  outside.  Soon  we  saw  the  sulky  in  front  and  the 
one  at  the  old  gent's  side,  together  with  his  own,  all  in 
a  mixup  and  turning  flipflops.  When  we  reached  the 
spot  we  found  them  all  bruised  and  bleeding,  with  their 
horses  loose  on  the  prairie,  but  the  old  man  was  game, 
and  this  is  what  he  said : 

"I  ran  between  them  purposely.  I  knew  it  would 
top  us  all  over,  but  I  said  to  myself,  'Old  Eighmy,  you 
haven't  long  to  live  at  the  best,  and  if  you  must  die  you 
might  as  well  kill  a  couple  of  these  damn  mean  cusses 
for  the  good  of  the  community,  after  you're  gone.'  " 

Isaac  Waxwell  and  Jim  Rawley  were  forever  wrang- 
ling. Jim  was  usually  on  the  judge's  stand  and  Isaac 
claimed  that  Jim  did  not  give  him  a  fair  show.  He  cer- 
tainly should  have  had  a  fair  show,  for  it  was  rich  to 
see  him  drive  in  the  dead  heat ;  he  had  a  peculiar  way  of 
leaning  forward  and  sticking  out  his  elbows  so  it  looked 
as  though  he  was  pushing  on  the  reins. 

John  Brennock,  a  pioneer  packer  from  the  stockyards, 
was  a  unique  character.  He  was  a  big  man  with  a  large 
head,  and  his  mouth  was  very  large  in  proportion  to  his 


136  LOOKING  BACK 

head.  Everyone  liked  Brennock  and  knew  he  was  rich, 
for  he  had  told  them  so.  His  last  resort,  in  a  dead 
heat,  was  to  bawl  so  loud  as  to  frighten  the  other  drivers' 
horses  off  their  feet. 


HOPEFUL  AND  RARUS 

On  the  sportsman's  track,  adjoining  ours  on  the  west, 
national  events  took  place.  The  race  between  Hopeful 
and  Rarus  was  the  most  exciting  of  anything  which 
ever  took  place  in  those  days.  About  60,000  people  gath- 
ered to  see  the  race. 

The  blooded  Rarus  was  a  tall  six-year-old  bay  trotter 
of  national  fame,  from  Beldom  Brothers'  stock  farm 
in  California.  Hopeful  was  a  chubby  little  white  pacer, 
from  a  farm  on  the  New  England  hills.  He  was  twenty- 
two  years  old,  and  had  never  been  on  a  race  track  until 
that  season. 

Neither  horse  had  ever  lost  a  race,  and  while  the 
l)ress,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Rockies,  leaned  hopefully 
towards  Hopeful,  yet  they  seemed  to  think  that  he  was 
overmatched. 

The  match  was  really  a  strife  between  the  people  and 
the  sporting  fraternity,  for  horse  racing  throughout  the 
country  had  become  demoralized  to  the  extent  that  the 
gamblers  seldom  allowed  the  best  horse  to  win.  There- 
fore, all  the  people  wanted  to  see  the  old  farmer,  with 
his  handsome  pet,  win  the  race. 

It  was  a  delightful  October  day  and  not  only  did  the 
whole  city  turn  out,  but  thousands  came  in  from  the  coun- 
try, to  witness  the  great  national  race  which  had  long 
been  advertised. 

Rarus  came  out  first,  stepping  lively  around  the  mile 
course  and  speeding  down  past  the  grandstand,  which 
137 


138  LOOKING  BACK 

brought  forth  applause,  for  all  admired  the  Pacific 
Ranger,  who  had  come  to  Chicago  to  win  the  laurels 
of  the  day. 

When  Hopeful  came  out  and  paced  slowly  up  past 
the  grandstand  he  looked  one  way  and  the  other  to  those 
who  applauded  him  with  a  sort  of  confident  grin,  but 
when  he  turned  at  the  north  end  of  the  home  stretch  and 
let  loose,  the  people  just  yelled  and  roared,  while  the 
women  acted  as  though  they  would  like  to  hug  him  in 
their  arms. 

When  lots  were  chosen  and  Hopeful  won  the  pole, 
there  was  another  shout,  but  it  was  soon  followed  by  a 
row  in  the  judge's  stand,  as  there  seemed  to  be  a  misun- 
derstanding as  to  who  should  call  time,  or  give  the  word 
to  go,  but  it  was  finally  settled,  and  the  horses  appeared 
for  probably  the  most  exciting  race  ever  pulled  ofl^  on 
the  American  continent. 

At  the  word  "go"  they  were  off  and  we  all  craned  our 
necks  as  they  shot  around  the  south  bend.  Hopeful  hug- 
ging the  pole  and  Rarus  laying  on  the  wheel  of  his 
sulky.  On  the  back  stretch,  Rarus  pulled  out  endeavoring 
to  pass,  and  our  hearts  were  in  our  mouths,  while  the 
little  mountaineer  elevated  his  head  a  trifle  and  steadily 
held  the  big  ranger  on  the  hub  until  they  came  under  the 
wire.  Hopeful  winner,  first  in  three. 

We  were  still  uneasy,  for  the  impression  was  prevalent 
that  the  blooded  animal  was  a  stayer,  while  Hopeful 
could  not  make  the  second  mile  as  fast  as  the  first,  but 
he  still  held  the  pole,  and  we  argued  that  if  Rarus  had 
done  his  best  we  were  all  right. 

When  they  came  out  for  the  second  heat  we  soon 
discovered  that  we  were  being  jockeyed,  for  several  times 
they  came  under  the  wire,  neck  and  neck,  and  yet  were 


LOOKING  BACK  139 

called  back  by  the  starter,  whose  neck  we  wanted  to 
wring,  for  we  knew  he  was  doing  it  to  fuss,  worry  and 
tire  our  Hopeful. 

The  last  time  they  were  called  back,  Rarus  turned 
sooner  than  usual,  and  before  Hopeful  could  turn  he 
was  at  full  speed  and  came  under  the  wire  far  ahead  and 
got  the  word  "go,"  which  gave  him  time  to  swing  in 
and  take  the  pole. 

A  murmur  seemed  to  stifle  the  friends  of  Hopeful 
as  the  horses  swung  into  the  back  stretch,  where  we 
hoped  to  see  the  pacer  try  to  pass,  but  he  steadily  hung 
on  the  hub,  as  he  had  done  around  the  south  bend,  and 
continued  this  all  the  way  around  the  north  bend,  when 
suddenly  his  driver  pulled  him  out  into  the  center  of 
the  home  stretch,  and  the  great  race  was  on  in  dead 
earnest. 

We  had  taken  some  ladies  from  the  ground  into  our 
carriage,  so  they  could  see,  while  I  stepped  onto  the 
tire  of  one  wheel  with  my  wife,  Mary's  hand  on  my  neck 
to  keep  me  from  falling.  In  the  excitement  she  gripped 
me  so  hard  I  can  almost  feel  her  hand  now. 

Our  position  near  the  judge's  stand  gave  us  a  full 
view  of  the  horses  as  they  were  coming,  with  Hope- 
ful's head  high  and  his  knees  far  apart.  For  a  few  sec- 
onds the  silence  which  seemed  to  reign  was  only  broken 
by  the  seemingly  far  away  sound  of  the  horses'  feet  on 
the  soft  dirt,  but  soon  those  at  the  north  started  a  cheer, 
which  wildly  broke  along  the  throng  like  a  wave,  as 
Hopeful  steadily  poked  his  nose  farther  to  the  front 
until  Rarus  flew  up  into  the  air,  when  the  news  began 
flashing  over  the  wires  into  the  country  that  Hopeful 
had  won. 

Amid  the  cheers  and  yells,  a  ridiculous  scene  occurred 


no  LOOKING  BACK 

which  the  reader  should  have  witnessed  to  appreciate. 
Suddenly  in  the  crowd  nearby  a  gruff  voice  seemed  utter- 
ing smothered  oaths,  while  a  woman  shouted  shrieks  of 
terror,  as  she  suddenly  appeared  above  the  throng  sitting 
on  the  top  of  a  man's  head,  he  pawing  with  both  hands 
to  try  to  get  her  off,  while  she  was  struggling  for  release. 

The  cause  of  this  strange  episode  took  place  some- 
thing like  this :  He  was  a  burly,  cross-eyed  Wolverine, 
from  the  tall  pine  tree  country,  who  came  down  to  bet 
his  hard-earned  money  on  the  famous  Pacific  Coast 
trotter.  During  the  excitement  someone  knocked  his 
glasses  off,  and  in  order  for  the  cross-eyed  man  to  see 
to  find  them  he  had  to  put  his  face  near  to  the  ground. 
She,  Mrs.  Durgan,  a  little  woman,  it  seems,  when  awfully 
tickled,  was  accustomed  to  spat  her  hands  on  her  knees 
and  run  backwards  while  laughing.  When  she  heard 
Hopeful  had  won,  forgetting  where  she  was,  she  indulged 
in  her  old  habit  of  running  backwards  until  she  sat  on 
his  head. 

When  he  felt  her  alight  he  sprang  erect  and,  of 
course,  not  being  able  to  see  out  or  know  what  was  hap- 
pening, uttered  a  few  excusable  oaths.  After  the  good- 
natured  man  had  found  his  spectacles  he  looked  pitifully 
at  the  woman,  who  was  deluged  in  a  flood  of  tears,  and 
then  turning  to  me  smiled,  as  he  said,  "Didn't  that  beat 
hell?" 

That  was  long,  long  ago.  Should  the  recording  angel 
call  the  roll  today  of  those  who  were  there  that  day,  not 
one  in  ten  would  answer,  and  in  a  few  years  all  will  be 
silent.    Where  have  they  gone,  and  will  they  come  again  ? 


CHICAGO   PIETY 

Jim  Sackley,  an  Irishman  of  merited  renown,  was  liv- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  of  Lake  Street  and  Western 
Avenue,  when  we  arrived  in  Chicago.  He  had  been  a 
sort  of  self-appointed  constable  of  the  town  of  Cicero, 
which  he  said  included  all  the  territory  west  of  Western 
Avenue. 

Thompson  Brothers  at  the  time  were  running  a  gen- 
eral store  on  Lake  Street  and,  as  they  were  politically 
inclined,  their  store  seemed  to  be  a  gathering  place  for 
the  worthy  aspirants  of  the  neighborhood. 

One  evening  Gordon  and  I  were  in  the  store  when 
Tony  McGuel,  a  gentleman  from  Cork,  came  in  to  an- 
nounce the  death  of  his  wife.  We  all  huddled  around  him 
in  sympathy,  for  we  had  not  even  heard  that  she  was 
sick.  The  surroundings  of  the  scene  were  made  all  the 
more  pitiful,  as  it  had  taken  place  just  before  pay  day  at 
the  car  barns,  and  he  needed  a  little  assistance  financially, 
so  Hiram  and  Harvey  Thompson  headed  the  subscription 
list,  and  soon  we  had  raised  quite  a  respectable  sum. 

Jim  Sackley  was  there  and  in  just  the  frame  of  mind 
to  shed  sympathy  copiously,  for  it  was  said  that  one  of  his 
near  relatives  had  recently  passed  away  and  he  was  in 
communication,  at  intervals,  with  the  priest,  who  was 
still  praying  her  out  of  purgatory.  Not  only  this,  but 
Jim,  although  not  an  Irishman  himself,  for  as  he  had  said 
his  children  were  all  born  in  this  country,  yet  he  had 
seen  the  auld  sod  and,  like  Joseph  and  his  kinsmen  in 
141 


142  LOOKING  BACK 

Egypt,  with  a  five  dollar  bill  in  his  hand  he  fell  on  Tony's 
neck  and  they  kissed  and  hugged  like  mother  and  babe. 

Of  course,  they  had  both  been  drinking  slightly,  which 
made  the  tears  flow  more  freely,  which  so  afifected  us  all 
that  we  pulled  out  our  linen  and  wiped  away  the  surplus 
moisture. 

After  Tony  had  gone  with  about  $13.00,  which  Sackley 
said  would  only  buy  the  cheapest  coffin,  Sackley  and 
Harvey  Thompson  shaved,  put  on  clean  shirts,  and  called 
at  the  home  to  view  the  corpse  and,  if  necessary,  offer 
prayer,  when  to  their  surprise  the  corpse  met  them  at  the 
door,  and  said  she  did  not  know  where  Tony  was ;  the 
last  she  heard  of  him  he  was  trying  to  borrow  money 
to  attend  a  wake  down  on  Canal  Street. 


PUBLIC   CONVEYANCE 

During  those  days  the  Chicago  Street  Railway  Com- 
pany suffered  much  through  what  might  be  called  grow- 
ing pain.  The  Randolph  Street  cars  turned  at  Union 
Park  over  onto  Lake  Street,  as  far  as  Robey,  and  there 
they  stopped  during  the  busy  hours  of  morning  and 
evening,  only  running  to  their  barns  on  \\"estern  Avenue, 
when  they  were  not  in  a  hurry. 

Their  excuse  for  not  running  all  their  cars  to  West- 
ern Avenue  was  that  they  could  not  afford  to  carry  pas- 
sengers so  far  for  five  cents,  as  hay  was  $5.00  a  ton 
and  oats  twenty-seven  cents  per  bushel,  besides  the  pub- 
lic demanded  such  extravagant  service. 

The  patrons  continually  murmured  about  the  cars  be- 
ing cold  in  winter,  so  the  company  filled  into  each  car 
about  a  foot  of  loose  straw  to  keept  feet  warm.  This 
did  not  work,  for  the  ladies'  skirts  dragged  in  the  mud 
and  tobacco  spittle,  and  as  a  result  our  common  council 
rashly  passed  an  ordinance  requiring  the  company  to  heat 
their  cars. 

The  company's  first  impression  was  that  it  could  be 
done  with  hot  water  bags,  which  the  wise  city  fathers 
rejected,  so  the  company  turned  to  red  hot  iron.  They 
made  receptacles  at  intervals  under  the  seats,  where  they 
carried  hot  iron,  which  they  exchanged,  the  cold  for  the 
hot,  at  the  return  of  each  trip.  This  could  hardly  be 
considered  a  success,  for  if  one  set  over  where  there 
was  no  heat  the  chills  would  creep  up  his  spinal  column, 
143 


144  LOOKING  BACK 

while  if  he  sat  over  a  fresh  hot  slab  he  was  in  danger  of 
being  blistered,  but  the  ordinance  had  been  obeyed,  and 
the  company  was  proud  of  their  West  Side  horse  car 
line  until  the  cruel  hand  of  competition  disturbed  their 
sweet  repose. 

A  wide  awake  German  by  the  name  of  Kolbe  bought 
up  the  old  North  Shore  buss  line  and  furnished  it  with 
much  better  horses  than  the  railroad  company  were  using 
and  started  in  to  carry  passengers  over  the  same  route 
for  four-cent  fare. 

At  first  the  railroad  company  ignored  Mr.  Kolbe,  but 
soon  reduced  their  fare  to  four  cents,  and  even  at  that 
the  busses  got  all  the  passengers,  for  they  were  driven 
faster. 

Now  the  fun  began.  The  company  ordered  their 
drivers  to  make  the  trip  as  fast  as  the  omnibusses,  or  they 
would  be  discharged,  while  Kolbe  gave  orders  to  his 
drivers  to  outdo  the  company.  This  gave  the  passengers, 
whose  destination  was  State  Street,  regular  joy  rides,  but 
those  who  attempted  to  get  on  or  off  along  the  route, 
took  their  lives  in  their  hands.  During  the  heat  of  excite- 
ment, Kolbe  dropped  the  fare  to  three  cents,  which  the 
company  followed.  Even  at  this,  the  more  frisky  pas- 
sengers continued  to  patronize  the  buss  line,  leaving  only 
a  few  grandfathers  and  gentle  dames  to  ride  in  the  cars. 
This  dropped  the  fare  to  two  cents,  when  the  company 
bought  Kolbe  out,  paying  him  a  fabulous  price  for  his 
old  bus  line,  in  railroad  stock,  which  now  advanced  rap- 
idly, and  thus  the  wide  awake  German  made  a  handsome 
fortune. 

In  1877  Gordon  and  I  opened  up  a  factory  just  east 
of  the  river,  on  Lake  Street.  In  1882  we  sold  our  homes 
on  West  Lake  Street,  and  built  on  Washington  Boule- 


BOULEVARD  HOME  OF  MY  BROTHER  G.  M. 

RIGHT   TO    LEFT.     G.    M..    ELMER.    PERRIN,    ELLA.    LAWRANCE,    GERTIE, 
MERRICK,    GEORGE.    AMANDA. 


LOOKING  BACK  145 

vard,  he  at  the  southwest  corner  of  Albany  Avenue,  and 
I  at  the  southeast  corner  of  Francisco  Street. 

We  continued  partners  until  1885,  when  we  dissolved, 
he  remaining  at  the  old  stand  and  I  starting  in  the 
same  line  on  Lake  Street,  just  west  of  State  Street,  where 
through  damage  by  water  from  an  adjacent  fire,  I  lost 
heavily  and  made  a  bad  failure.  Soon  I  picked  up  again 
and  in  1890  bought  the  northwest  corner  of  Washington 
Boulevard  and  Curtis  Street,  and  erected  a  six-story 
factory  and  began  manufacturing  on  a  more  extensive 
scale. 


MY  ATHLETIC  EXPLOITS 

I  mention  with  pride  the  physical  strength  and  agiHty 
with  which  I  was  born,  and  which  sustains  me  still. 
Equestrianship  came  into  vogue  in  western  cities  in  about 
1885,  and  was  kept  up  until  bicycles  came  out.  At  one 
period  I  kept  four  saddle  horses  for  the  use  of  my  fam- 
ily. Like  other  horse  fanciers,  I  carried  it  to  the  extreme. 
For  over  two  years,  summer  and  winter,  wet  or  dry,  I 
mounted  my  pet  horse,  Deacon,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  rode  ten  to  thirty  miles  before  breakfast. 
I  also  had  a  vicious  horse — Blackhawk — who  objected  to 
the  saddle,  which  I  took  out  occasionally,  just  for  the 
fun.  Often  with  me  in  the  saddle  he  would  rear  up  and 
come  over  on  his  back,  which,  when  I  felt  him  going,  I 
would  swing  around  and  land  on  my  feet,  then  mount  him 
again  when  he  was  springing  up.  \Mien  I  gave  him  the 
spurs  he  would  kick,  only  to  get  the  spurs  again  when 
his  heels  came  down,  and  sometimes  we  both  went  over 
the  sidewalk  into  the  ditch,  which  I  enjoyed,  for  I  never 
got  hurt. 

In  1895  the  bicycle  craze  came  on,  and  we  all  left 
our  horses  and  mounted  wheels.  I  objected  to  the  wheel 
at  first,  but  when  my  son,  Arthur,  brought  me  a  wheel 
to  the  factory  and  insisted  that  I  should  try  it.  I  did,  and 
made  lots  of  sport  for  the  hands  who  were  watching  me 
trying  to  mount,  for  whenever  I  lost  my  balance  I  would 
throw  the  wheel  against  the  curbstone. 

That  evening  Arthur  and  Walton  Aborn  gave  me  a 
146 


LOOKING  BACK  147 

lesson  in  the  dark,  and  the  next  day  I  could  ride — that 
was  if  all  the  gates  were  closed — ^but  when  I  saw  one 
open  I  somehow  seemed  to  start  right  for  it,  often  to  the 
disgust  of  some  dignified  old  gentleman  or  frowning  lady, 
who  were  scrambling  for  their  lives  to  get  out  of  my 
way  and  wondering  what  I  was  trying  to  do. 

About  the  third  day  I  started  before  daybreak  for 
my  brother's  summer  cottage  at  Twin  Lakes,  Wis.,  about 
sixty-five  miles  northwest  of  Chicago.  I  arrived  about 
noon,  but,  oh,  the  summersaults  I  did  take.  Honestly, 
when  I  got  there,  there  was  scarcely  an  inch  on  the  wheel 
where  the  varnish  was  not  scratched,  or  any  very  large 
patches  on  my  legs  where  the  skin  was  presentable,  for 
when  I  took  a  heels  over  head  into  the  wayside,  the  bark 
usually  got  scraped  off  of  either  the  saplings  or  me.  The 
next  day  I  took  a  100-mile  circuitous  route  home,  and 
then  for  a  day  was  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Chamberlain, 
my  son-in-law,  who  was  bound  to  have  my  picture  taken, 
which  I  stubbornly  declined,  but  now  I  wish  I  had  it. 


MY  FIRST  HUNDRED  MILE  RUN 

My  soil,  Arthur,  then  famous  as  one  of  the  long  dis- 
tance riders  of  the  west,  got  up  a  party  of  about  twenty 
aspirants  to  take  over  the  100-mile  Elgin  and  Aurora 
course  at  a  breakneck  speed.  I  was  not  fitted  for  such 
a  run,  but  I  fell  in  and  we  were  all  off  at  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

The  wind  blew  almost  a  gale  in  our  faces  and  before 
we  reached  Elgin  all  had  dropped  out  but  Walton  Aborn, 
Jim  Carroll,  Billy  Push,  Arthur  and  myself. 

Down  the  Fox  River  Arthur  increased  the  pace  to 
that  extent  that  Billy  threw  himself  into  the  shade  of  a 
barn  and  refused  to  budge,  so  we  left  him  there. 

On  the  home  run  from  Aurora,  Jim  Carroll  declared 
his  intention  not  to  alight,  as  was  customary  at  the  S. 
Hill,  but  ride  his  wheel  down,  a  feat  which  Arthur  told 
him  no  fatigued  rider  should  attempt. 

We  fell  back  and  let  him  lead,  and  held  our  breath 
as  he  shot  out  of  sight  around  the  first  corner  at  a  thirty- 
mile  pace. 

When  we  turned  the  corner  hoping  to  see  Jim  far 
away  across  the  Skunkamunk  Valley,  we  discovered  a 
swath  in  the  roadside  down  through  the  underbrush, 
briers  and  brambles  nearly  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  At  the 
end  of  the  swath  under  an  immense  heap  of  rubbish  we 
found  Jim  and  his  wheel,  he  blinking  like  a  toad  under  a 
harrow. 

Jim  groaned  and  grunted  and  finally  told  us  he  did 
148 


Si 


sis 

"oh 

<   a  r^ 


Z   O 


o 


LOOKING  BACK  149 

not  think  he  was  dead,  but  his  back  was  probably  broken. 
We  soon  had  him  on  his  feet  with  his  wheel  righted  and 
was  pleased  to  learn  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  few 
tufts  of  hair  and  chunks  of  hide  left  in  the  trail  where 
he  had  slidden  down,  he  was  the  same  man,  only  his  eyes 
were  so  full  of  gravel  that  he  could  not  see. 

He  now  proposed  to  take  a  bath  in  the  creek  in  order 
to  find  out  just  how  much  skin  he  had  left  on  his  body. 
For  this  purpose  he  attempted  to  crawl  under  the  barbed 
wire  fence,  into  which  his  clothes  got  caught  in  such  a 
way  that  he  could  neither  raise  up  nor  let  down,  back  out 
or  push  forward,  work  his  pants  ofif,  or  keep  his  shirt  on. 

When  we  began  to  laugh  and  roar,  Jim  began  to 
swear  and  cry,  and  said  if  we  would  go  on  about  our  own 
business  he  would  get  out  and  come  home  when  he  got 
good  and  ready. 

Now  there  were  only  three  of  us,  and  Arthur  lit  out, 
leaving  Walton  and  myself  to  come  as  fast  as  we  could. 
We  got  into  a  mixup  and  both  took  headers  over  our 
wheels,  when  we  sung  out  to  Arthur  to  come  back  and 
help  us. 

When  he  returned  I  showed  deep  regret  that  my  wheel 
was  broken,  for,  of  course,  I  was  not  much  tired,  but 
when  he  pronounced  both  wheels  in  good  running  order, 
I  felt  awfully,  for  I  would  have  given  most  anything  for 
an  excuse  to  go  no  farther. 

Arthur  now  encouraged  us  by  saying  he  would  run 
on  a  while  and  then  wait  for  us,  so  we  took  it  steady,  and 
in  some  way  got  past  him.  Then  we  sat  down  in  the 
shade  and  waited,  for  we  did  not  want  to  report  at  the 
club  house  that  we  had  left  him  in  the  country,  for  fear 
they  would  blame  us.  We  finally  started  on  and  came 
slowly,  stopping  in  every  shade,  waiting  for  Arthur,  until 


150  LOOKING  BACK 

we  reached  Garfield  Park,  where  we  met  Minnie,  my  eld- 
est daughter,  with  Dr.  Chamberlain,  her  husband,  and 
Alberta,  my  next,  with  her  husband,  George  Carlson, 
together  with  several  other  neighbors,  all  riding  their 
wheels,  who  laughed  at  us  and  said  Arthur  arrived  home 
about  three  hours  before. 


m^     -       : '^i^^iH 

W^tM^^^r^^^mm^j'- 

'■"l^h^W  '^^^^^M^^ 

^A^^K     '^'^'^^^l^ 

j^^a^^R^'^     wt^^(^^ 

W^^K^^  -~t9^^^ 

,k¥^^^^P^^^^B  Tii^j^JF             l^r '^^^^^^^M^M^^^^I^^B 

9iBiBr^^nl^tt>         A^ 

:    il^feg^^M 

|y&^** 

I 

'"'/Ip'Ti^flK.  ^/, .. 

<^ 

•  • , 

■      if 

r-^ 

■K^ 

^-      .H^   ..A\ 

ARTHUR'S  AND  WALTON'S  LONG  RUN 

The  next  summer  Arthur  and  Walton  made  their 
famous  ride  through  to  Crystal  Lake,  Conn.  Here  is  an 
outline  of  their  exploit,  which  was  considered  a  great 
achievement,  considering  the  rainy  weather  and  the  rough 
roads  they  encountered  between  Chicago  and  Toledo  and 
between  Silver  Creek  and  Memphis,  N.  Y. 

Here  I  reproduce  the  letters  which  Arthur  sent  back 
while  on  the  road : 

Perrysburg,  Ohio,  June  17,  1896. 
Dear  Father : — 

\\"alton  and  I  were  very  much  surprised  at  the  end  of 
our  first  day's  ride  at  Mishawaka,  Lid.,  to  read  in  the  Tri- 
bune so  much  about  your  winning  the  100-mile  race  over 
all  the  crack  Illinois  bicycle  riders.  The  paper  was  shown 
us  by  our  friends  at  Mishawaka,  and  at  first  we  thought 
there  was  a  mistake  that  father  had  won  the  closely  con- 
tested race,  but  Walton  said:  "No  use  talking,  Uncle 
Merrick  is  fast — but  it  is  not  all  in  his  legs ;  it  is  his 
indomitable  will  power  that  wins."  Then  we  pictured 
to  ourselves  the  occasion  and  "he  55  years  old,"  said  L 
"Well,  God  gave  him  a  strong  constitution,  and  he  has 
taken  care  of  it." 

Batavia,  N.  Y.,  June  19,  1896. 
Dear  Folks  at  Home  : — 

This  letter  is  especially  for  mother,  Minnie  and  Bertie, 
while  the  ones  about  bicycle  riding  go  to  father. 
151 


152  LOOKING  BACK 

We  are  stopping  here  at  Uncle  John's  at  Batavia,  and 
the  rest  is  very  welcome.  We  were  mighty  tired  and 
this  is  the  first  day  we  have  had  a  chance  to  rest  since 
we  left  home. 

I  tell  you,  mother,  I  have  a  couple  of  fine  cousins 
in  Carrie  and  Ida.  I  don't  think  Walton  will  ever  for- 
get Ida's  kindness.  He  was  so  sore  from  riding  his 
wheel  that  when  he  got  here  he  couldn't  sit  down.  He 
had  to  sleep  standing,  but  Ida  made  him  the  dandiest 
pillow  and  sewed  it  on  to  his  bicycle  saddle,  so  poor 
Walton  is  all  right  now. 

We  are  going  to  see  Grandmother  Hoyt  at  Elba  to- 
morrow. You  know  it  is  only  six  miles  north.  Well, 
mother,  the  Hoyts  are  all  in  good  standing  around  here, 
and  I  feel  mighty  proud  of  you  all.  Aunt  Alida  seems 
young  as  ever,  and  the  bloom  of  youth  is  on  her  cheek. 
But,  say,  you  would  think  I  was  writing  a  novel,  wouldn't 
you  ? 

Uncle  John  and  I  sat  up  nearly  all  night,  and  he  cer- 
tainly told  me  some  very  interesting  things  about  the 
Hoyts  and  Deweys,  and  many  incidents  of  you  in  your 
childhood  days,  when  you  lived  in  Rochester,  before 
you  came  to  Pine  Hill.  He  says  the  childhood  home  of 
Grandfather  Hoyt  was  at  Hudson,  on  the  Hudson  River, 
and  that  his  family  came  from  Danbury,  Connecticut. 
Grandmother  Hoyt  was  a  Dewey  from  Ohio,  and  her 
father  was  from  Watertown,  N.  Y.,  whose  ancestors 
sprang  from  the  Herkimer  County  Mohawk  Dutch. 

Now,  why  can't  we  claim  a  connecting  link,  for  we 
all  know  that  my  great  grandfather,  John  Richardson's 
brother,  Gershom,  moved  from  Stafford,  Connecticut, 
to  Watertown,  N.  Y.,  and  I  have  heard  father  say  that 
he,  Warren  Richardson,  my  grandfather,  with  some  other 


ill     >ll(M,i.       tH)\    LVKE.    WINONA    (;HOVE. 


LOOKING  BACK  153 

men,  walked  up  to  Watertown  one  winter,  over  300  miles, 
and  staid  a  month  or  so  with  their  cousins.  They  were 
a  large  family. 

I  wish  Uncle  John  lived  where  I  could  see  him  often. 
He  is  so  full  of  information  on  all  subjects,  that  I  just 
love  to  talk  with  him.  It  made  me  laugh  when  he  told 
me  about  how  you,  Ellen  Wilder,  Mary  Robe  and  Mary 
Raymond,  actually  carried  old  Pine  Hill  by  storm  several 
winters. 

Then  he  got  to  talking  about  the  war  and  I  really 
cried  when  he  described  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor,  June 
3,  1864.  Just  think  of  it,  four  brothers — John,  Sylvester, 
and  the  twins,  Edwin  and  Edward — standing  there  at 
daylight  waiting  for  the  order  to  charge  the  enemy's 
breast  works.  Uncle  John  said  that  they  all  thought  it 
meant  death.  Colonel  Porter  must  have  been  a  brave 
man ;  he  stood  in  front  and  said,  "Boys,  this  is  our  last 
charge,  but  we  are  going  to  obey  orders."  He  unwisely 
wore  his  uniform  in  leading;  Uncle  John  said  that  he 
hadn't  gone  thirty  feet  before  he  was  pierced  with  seven 
or  eight  bullets. 

Uncle  John  was  captured  and  sent  to  Salisbury  prison 
for  nearly  two  years.  When  he  came  out  his  mother  said 
he  looked  like  a  monkey.  He  only  weighed  seventy-nine 
pounds.  Sylvester  was  shot  in  the  thigh,  Edwin  was 
shot  through  the  lungs,  and  poor  Edward ;  we  have  never 
heard  from  him.  Wasn't  that  an  awful  price  for  your 
family  to  pay  for  the  Union?  Uncle  said  "that  from 
1,900  of  us  boys  of  that  22d  New  York  Heavy  Artillery, 
over  600  were  killed  in  half  an  hour,  and  at  the  next 
roll  call  at  Reams  Station,  only  nineteen  men  of  the  regi- 
ment answered  the  call." 

Well,  I  can't  write  any  more.     Walton  has  already 


154  LOOKING  BACK 

gone  to  bed  and  we  have  got  to  start  at  four  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning.  We  expect  to  visit  Uncle  Sherman 
at  Rochester  tomorrow.  We  are  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  the  way  we  have  been  going  so  far  we  ought  to  make 
Connecticut  in  about  twelve  or  thirteen  days  from 
Chicago. 

\\"alton  and  I  are  awfully  proud  of  father  for  winning 
the  Century  from  all  the  fast  boys  of  the  Cycling  Club, 
but  we  don't  pride  ourselves  on  these  short  spurts.  Our 
specialty  is  thousand-mile  affairs,  and  if  he  wants  to  race 
us  he  has  got  to  race  the  whole  thousand.  Good  night. 
Your  loving  son,  Arthur. 

Rochester,  N.  Y.,  June  21,  1896. 
Dear  Father : — 

We  called  on  our  Uncle  Sherman  Richardson,  and  he 
was  very  proud  of  us,  introducing  us  to  many  of  his 
friends,  saying  that  the  blood  in  our  veins  was  the  same 
as  ran  in  his,  and  that  showed  the  kind  of  stuff  his  family 
was  made  of.  I  received  your  letter  at  Cleveland,  telling 
us  about  your  century  run,  and  advising  us  to  reserve  our 
strength  until  we  reached  your  time  of  life.  It  naturally 
stiffened  our  backbone  for  the  remaining  part  of  our 
ride. 

Memphis,  N.  Y.,  June  24,  1896. 
Dear  Father : — 

I  must  write  just  a  word,  for  Walton  has  had  a  lucky 
escape.  We  were  pushing  along  sleepily  today  when  a 
big  Newfoundland  dog  came  near  killing  Walton.  I 
looked  around  just  in  time  to  see  Walton  plunge  over 
an  embankment  into  a  snarl  of  milkweeds,  briars  and 
rocks,  head  down,  with  his  wheel  on  top  of  him.    He  said 


LOOKING  BACK  155 

the  dog  barked  so  fiercely  that  when  he  made  the  plunge 
he  actually  thought  he  felt  the  ugly  beast's  breath  on 
the  seat  of  his  pants.  We  soon  discovered  that  the  dog 
was  tied  to  a  tree,  so  we  went  about  to  repair  his  wheel. 
The  front  wheel  must  have  been  caught  between  two 
rocks,  when  Walton's  weight  on  it  (for  a  frightened  man 
weighs  heavy)  doubled  up  the  forks  like  a  jack  knife. 
W'g  got  a  blacksmith  to  heat  and  hammer  it  out  and  now 
both  \\"alton  and  the  wheel  are  in  a  good  ridable  condi- 
tion, and  we  shall  light  out  again  early  in  the  morning. 
Are  you  getting  my  postals,  which  I  am  sending  back 
from  every  town?  This  is  to  prove  to  the  club  boys  that 
we  rode  to  Connecticut  on  our  wheels  and  not  on  the 
train. 

Crystal  Lake,  Conn.,  June  28,  1896. 
Dear   Father : — 

We  arrived  here  this  evening,  having  made  the  run, 
1,017  miles,  in  thirteen  days  and  this  is  our  record : 

Mishawaka,    Ind 110  miles 

Edgerton,  Ohio 90      " 

Perrysburg,  Ohio 68      " 

Wakeman,   Ohio 70      " 

Willoughby,  Ohio 69      " 

Erie,    Pa 82      " 

Silver  Creek,  N.  Y 61      " 

Batavia,  N.  Y 70      " 

Palmyra,  N.  Y 63      " 

Memphis.   N.   Y 50      " 

Little  Falls,  N.  Y 89      " 

Nassau,   N.  Y 88      " 

Crystal  Lake,  Conn 107      " 

1,017  miles 


156  LOOKING  BACK 

Our  last  day  was  the  most  severe  we  experienced. 
There  was  a  drizzHng  rain  all  day,  in  which  we  rode 
from  Nassau,  and,  of  course,  you  know  we  had  to  zig- 
zag over  the  Green  Mountains. 

We  stopped  a  few  moments  to  see  Uncle  Epaphro 
and  Aunt  Adelia  and  she  gave  us  the  first  free  lunch 
we  had  had  since  we  left  Batavia.  When  we  arrived 
here  Uncle  Lucius  and  Aunt  Caroline  were  surprised  to 
see  us  looking  so  well.  Then  to  prove  to  them  that  we 
were  well  as  we  looked  Walton  and  I  turned  hand-springs 
on  the  grass  in  the  front  yard,  and  now  we  are  going  to 
bed.  Good-night,  remember  me  to  the  boys,  and  kiss  all 
the  girls  for  me  that  are  worth  kissing. 
Affectionately,  your  son, 

Arthur. 

P.  S. — Uncle  Collins  says  the  mountains,  wildwoods 
brooks,  lakes  and  meadows  around  your  old  home  are 
still  teeming  with  fruit,  flowers,  song  birds,  wild  game, 
and  shy  fish.  He  says  to  tell  you  to  come  down  and 
take  a  good  rest. 


THE  FIRST  CENTURY  RACE 

The  Illinois  Cycling  Club  was  now  in  its  glory,  and  I 
joined  them  and  entered  for  the  100-mile  race,  which 
came  off  June  15,  1896,  The  aspirants  began  training 
for  the  event  early  in  the  spring,  but  I  attended  to  my 
business  days,  and  evenings  I  slipped  out,  unknown  to 
anyone,  practicing  on  the  worst  hills  I  could  find,  pre- 
paring for  the  race  over  the  Elgin  and  Aurora  course, 
but  none  of  the  boys  knew  that  I  was  having  any  train- 
ing whatever. 

As  Arthur  and  Walton  were  to  start  for  Connecticut 
the  same  morning  on  their  thousand-mile  run,  we  ate 
breakfast  together  at  Lawrence's  Restaurant,  on  Madison 
Street,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  When  we 
were  about  to  part,  Arthur  said  to  me :  "Father,  do  you 
expect  to  win  that  race  today?"  My  reply  was  to  the 
effect  that  if  I  did  not,  Charley  Knisely  and  his  fast 
bunch  would  have  to  make  100  miles  quicker  than  they 
had  ever  made  it  yet. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  club  house  about  fifty  were 
awaiting  the  command  to  fall  in  and  about  two  or  three 
hundred  standing  to  see  us  off,  and  if  ever  a  dark  horse 
entered  a  race  it  was  M.  A.  Richardson  that  morning. 

That  evening  there  were  reports  in  all  the  daily 
papers,  and  among  other  things  the  Chicago  Times-Her- 
ald said  in  part:  "The  sixth  annual  run  of  the  Illinois 
Cycling  Club,  America's  largest  cycling  organization,  took 
place  yesterday.  Many  of  the  fast  riders,  anxious  to 
157 


158  LOOKING  BACK 

make  a  record  over  the  famous  Elgin  and  Aurora  100- 
mile  course,  tried  to  have  the  event  postponed  because 
of  the  heavy  rains  of  Friday  and  Saturday,  but  the 
schedule  could  not  be  changed  in  their  behalf. 

"As  it  was  a  certainty  that  the  rain  had  made  the 
regular  Elgin  mud  roads  west  of  Maywood  unridable, 
the  course  was  taken  over  the  Armitage  road  to  Addison, 
'seventeen  miles  out,'  in  the  vain  hope  that  this  road 
would  be  in  better  condition.  The  mud  just  sufficiently 
dried  to  be  caked  and  baked  into  a  rough  mass,  beside 
which  corduroy  is  a  boulevard,  furnished  ample  test  for 
endurance,  strength  and  skill,  for  no  sooner  had  a  mile 
of  it  been  traveled  than  the  roadside  was  strewn  with 
physical  and  mechanical  wrecks. 

"The  stunning  surprise  of  the  run  was  the  fact  that 
M.  A.  Richardson,  the  untrained  and  oldest  member,  a 
gray-haired  wiry  cycler,  finished  long  first,  making  his 
appearance  at  the  club  house  at  12:15,  one  hour  before 
R.  H.  Inman,  the  second  best  man,  who  finished  at  1:15. 
Upon  the  home  run  from  Aurora,  Richardson  did  some 
fast  riding,  leaving  masculine  brawn  and  youth  to  figure 
out  just  what  had  taken  place." 

THE     SECOND     RACE 

The  next  year  the  race  was  set  for  June  28,  1897, 
when  many  outsiders  from  the  country  came  in,  all 
intent  on  beating  Richardson,  but  one  can  imagine  their 
surprise  when  I  announced  that  I  would  drive  a  126-gear 
wheel,  which  was  equal  to  a  ten  per  cent  handicap  from 
the  80-gear  then  in  use. 

The  morning  was  fair  and  hot  when  140  of  us  lined 
up,  of  which   I   was  the  oldest  by  about  twenty  years. 


MYSELF    IN    THE    LEAD    UP    THE    FOX    RIVER    ON    THE    FAMOUS 
100    MILE    RUN. 


LOOKING  BACK  159 

At  the  word  "go"  we  ran  in  a  bunch  about  two  miles, 
when  I  pulled  out,  and  then  the  race  really  began.  At 
Austin  Avenue  I  increased  my  speed  to  Twelfth  Street, 
when  I  slowed  down  and  allowed  the  fast  bunch  to  pass, 
and  when  they  turned  west  on  Twenty-second,  as  I 
knew  they  would,  I  ran  straight  ahead  through  Clyde 
to  the  old  Hinsdale  road.  This  confused  them,  and  they 
struck  out,  each  man  for  himself,  to  beat  Richardson 
in  at  LaGrange. 

When  I  struck  the  Aurora  Road  again  there  were 
about  twenty-five  ahead  of  me  all  strung  out.  It  was  a 
fine  sight  to  see  them  between  me  and  Hinsdale,  raising 
a  cloud  of  dust  in  the  morning  sun  that  would  have  done 
honor  to  the  Chicago  fire  department,  hook  and  ladder 
included.  One  athletic  fellow  from  the  stockyards  was 
actually  carrying  his  cap  in  his  teeth,  which  seemed  to 
intensify  his  comical  grin  of  confidence. 

I  entered  the  cloud  of  dust  at  a  steady  pace,  and  when 
I  arrived  in  Aurora  for  registration,  eight  of  the  fastest 
in  the  bunch  had  registered  and  were  out  of  sight  on 
the  road  to  Elgin. 

The  distance  as  our  course  ran  to  Elgin  was  twenty- 
two  miles,  for  which  I  set  my  pace  to  reach  there  in 
sixty  minutes,  which  I  made  in  fifty-eight  minutes. 

One  by  one  I  passed  my  struggling  competitors  on 
the  winding  road  up  the  Fox  River  Valley,  registering 
first  man  at  Elgin  and  ofif  for  Chicago  before  the  next 
best  man  hove  in  sight,  having  the  last  forty  miles  of 
the  road  to  myself,  which  I  covered  at  high  speed,  and 
then  ate  a  fine  club  breakfast  before  the  second  in  the 
race  arrived. 


DEAD  GLACIER 

While  studying  the  North  American  Indians  in  Alaska 
I  experience  a  thrilling  adventure  in  the  Mendenthall 
Valley  which  memory  often  recalls. 

At  Juneau,  Judge  Mellen,  one  of  the  eight  United 
States  judges  appointed  to  Alaska,  from  Kentucky,  who 
had  accompanied  me  to  Taku,  giving  me  much  infor- 
mation, invited  me  to  dinner,  when  he  told  me  I  ought 
not  to  leave  Alaska  until  I  had  seen  a  dead  glacier. 
Mendenthall,  he  said  was  the  most  wonderful  but  hard 
to  approach,  and  he  and  his  wife  declared  I  was  just 
the  fellow  to  tackle  the  job. 

That  evening  he  sent  a  trusty  guide  to  me,  who  had 
another  man  on  the  string,  and  said  he  would  take  both 
of  us  for  $20.00,  we  bearing  all  expenses.  We  were 
soon  together,  with  his  mother,  a  lady  of  great  self- 
respect,  who  advised  me  to  caution  her  son,  Archibald, 
and  not  allow  him  to  plunge  into  danger. 

I  sized  Archibald  up  and  decided  he  was  a  good  fel- 
low with  heavy  self-esteem  and  light  experience,  so  I 
mentioned,  before  his  mother,  that  the  outing  would  be 
wild  experience  and  very  strenuous,  at  which  Archibald 
assured  me  he  could  stand  it  if  I  could,  besides  it  was 
just  the  job  he  was  seeking  for,  as  he  wanted  to  take 
something  home  out  of  the  ordinary. 

The  next  evening  at  10:30,  the  time  when  the  sun 
sets  in  Alaska  in  June,  we  left  Juneau  in  a  rowboat.  as 
we  must  cross  the  bar  at  high  water  at  about  midnight, 
160 


LOOKING  BACK  161 

or  go  around  about  fifty  miles  each  way,  both  going  and 
returning. 

Our  guide,  who  had  never  taken  the  trip  before,  mis- 
calculated and  we  were  late  at  the  bar.  This  left  us  our 
choice  to  jump  out  and  draw  the  boat  through  the  sea 
weeds  at  once  or  wait  until  the  next  tide  came  in.  Arch- 
ibald reluctantly  straddled  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  men- 
tioning that  he  came  north  for  his  health,  and  did  not 
think  that  a  midnight  bath  would  be  beneficial,  especially 
such  a  very  cold  one. 

"You  will  get  warm  enough,"  I  said,  "before  noon, 
when  we  are  working  our  way  through  that  swamp,  where 
mosquitoes  are  as  big  as  grasshoppers  and  the  bears  as 
big  as  oxen." 

"Bears?     What  bears,  Mr.  Richardson?" 

"I  understand  that  those  woods  are  full  of  bears. 
How  is  it,  guide?" 

"That  is  why  I  took  my  rifle  along,"  replied  the  grim 
old  mountaineer,  as  he  tugged  at  the  oars. 

"Where  is  your  rifle,  Mr.  Richardson?"  inquired 
Archibald,  as  the  white  of  his  eyes  began  to  show. 

"Oh,  I  prefer  a  large  knife  for  a  close  contact.  Judge 
Mellon  said  we  could  borrow  either  of  the  Indians." 

Soon  we  were  in  deep  water  again,  where  the  wild 
geese  and  ducks  were  scooting  this  way  and  that  to  keep 
out  of  our  way,  when  Archibald  turned  his  attention  to 
the  oarsman,  saying,  "Say,  old  man,  I  suppose  we  can 
hire  plenty  of  guides  at  the  hotel  to  go  with  us?" 

"Guides,"  grunted  the  boatsman,  "I  can  find  the  place 
myself.     Besides,  there  ain't  no  hotel  there." 

"No  hotel !     Where  will  we  get  our  breakfast  ?" 

"Plenty  of  fresh  bear  meat,  sir;  they  kill  them  every 
day. 


162  LOOKING  BACK 

Soon  Archibald  turned  to  me  and  said :  "Really,  Mr. 
Richardson,  I  am  quite  chilly  now,  and  if  it  will  be  just 
the  same  to  you  I  will  stay  at  the  landing  while  our  good 
friend  takes  you  to  the  glacier,  which  you  are  so  anxious 
to  see." 

"Chilly,"  ejaculated  the  old  guide.  "The  sun  will 
soon  be  up.  It  rises  here  now  at  2  :30  in  the  morning, 
and  as  for  staying  at  the  landing  is  concerned,  would 
you  dare  stay  alone  with  those  Indians?" 

"Alone  with  the  Indians?  Why,  the  Alaska  Indians 
are  civilized,  aren't  they?" 

"Spose   so,   but   Mendenthall   Valley   is   a  great  place 
for  men  to  come  up  missing." 

THE    FOREST. 

At  the  landing,  the  Indians  set  about  to  prepare  us 
breakfast  of  hot  no-cake  and  coffee.  The  coffee  is  from 
burned  wild  rice,  and  the  no-cake  corresponds  to  our 
corn  bread.  They  pound  the  dry  corn  in  a  mortar  with 
a  pestle  and  make  and  fry  them.  The  guide  and  I  filled 
up  on  about  ten  cakes  and  a  quart  of  coffee  each,  but 
Archibald  refused,  whispering  to  me  that  the  dishes 
smelled  of  bear's  oil ;  besides,  the  excitement  had  taken 
away  his  appetite. 

Archibald  then  said:  "That  old  Indian  says  they 
live  here  mostly  on  fish  and  bear.  Really,  do  you  think 
those  bears  are  of  the  savage  kind?" 

"Oh,  no,"  I  replied,  "only  when  they  have  cubs,  but 
they  say  this  is  just  cubbing  time." 

Mendenthall  Valley  is  about  ten  or  twelve  miles  west 
of  Juneau,  lies  between  two  precipitous  mountain  ranges 
over  2,000  feet  heigh.  The  timber,  brook  and  soil  give 
evidence  of  great  age,  and  no  indications  appear  to  cause 


LOOKING  BACK  163 

one  to  think  it  is  a  grown-up  pathway  of  a  glacier.  After 
entering  the  woods  we  could  see  nothing  ahead,  only 
timber,  except  at  intervals  an  opening,  which  gave  us  a 
view  of  the  mountains  on  either  side,  as  we  followed  the 
brook,  which  led  us  in  a  zigzag  course. 

A\"hen  several  miles  in  we  discovered  unmistakable 
evidence  of  where  some  large  animal  had  fled  at  our 
approach,  but  we  saw  nothing  but  owls,  eagles  and  other 
small  game.  I  was  urging  the  guide  to  hurry  up,  while 
Archibald  was  grumbling  because  we  were  going  so  fast, 
saying  he  was  faint  and  hungry,  so  we  stopped  for  lunch, 
and  Archibald  was  glad  to  eat  the  no-cake,  which  he 
refused  when  it  was  hot. 

The  foliage  was  remarkable  for  its  large  leaves.  Wild 
berries  were  in  abundance,  and  the  trees  appeared  to  be 
of  great  age,  which  caused  me  to  remark  that  it  seemed 
incredible  that,  where  we  were  sitting,  the  ice  was  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  above  our  heads  not  so  very  long 
ago. 

"Not  so  very  long?  Do  you  believe  that  yourself, 
Mr.  Richardson?" 

"Certainly  I  do.  Once  this  valley  was  a  basin  of  ice. 
Have  you  not  studied  geology,  Archibald?" 

"I  have,  sir,  and  I  never  learned  that  a  glacier  could 
ever  thrive  in  such  a  d — d  hot  hole  as  this.  Say,  Richard- 
son, were  you  living  in  the  Glacial  Period?" 

"Which  one?" 

"Was  there  more  than  one?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Were  you  living  in  the  last  one  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Hear  that,  guide,  Richardson  says  he  was  living  in 
the  Glacial  Period,  which  was  more  than  40,000  years 


164  LOOKING  BACK 

ago,  and  he  does  not  look  to  be  more  than  two  or  three 
hundred  years  old.     Will  you  explain,  Mr.  R.  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  the  Glacial  Period  is  now  on  at  the  poles — 
long  ago  it  was  on  in  this  valley  and  still  longer  ago  it 
was  down  in  the  states.  Do  you  not  know  that  our  world 
is  slowly  revolving  in  the  direction  we  call  south?  That 
is  God's  wise  plan  to  give  each  part  of  the  earth  rest. 
Tropical  animals  once  lived  here  and  in  Siberia. 

"Who  told  you  all  that  stuff?" 

"Geology,  sir;  the  same  book  which  you  have  been 
studying.  By  the  way,  did  you  ever  learn  about  the 
Neanderthal  man  whose  skull  was  found  in  a  cave  in  the 
Neanderthal  Valley,  with  the  bones  of  a  bear?  The 
man  must  have  lived  contemporary  with  Adam,  and  it 
seems  that  the  bear " 

"Were  the  bones  of  that  man  and  bear  found  in  this 
place?" 

"No  !     No  !     Do  not  get  excited." 

"But  you  said  they  were  found  in  Mendenthal  Valley." 

"I  said  Neanderthal,  where  a  prehistoric  race  once 
lived,  but  really  where  the  bones  were  found  closely  re- 
sembles this  place  as  well  afS  the  name,  for  I  have  been 
there.  It  is  in  Prussia.  Now  let  me  illustrate  by  our 
presence  here,  what  mayi  once  have  occured  in  the 
Neanderthal  Valley.  Suppose  one  of  those  ferocious  she- 
bears  should  come  spat  upon  us  now  and  the  guide  and 
I  should  escape,  while  she  dragged  your  mangled 
corpse " 

"Bah-aa-aa,"  roared  the  guide. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at,  you  great  fool?"  said 
Archibald. 

"Laughing  to  see  your  eyes  bulge  out." 

"Please  do  not  speak  that  way  to  Mr.  Archibald,"  I 


LOOKING  BACK  165 

said,  "he  knows  we're  in  no  danger,  so  long  as  there's 
plenty  of  trees  to  climb." 

"Your  business,  sir,"  said  Archibald  to  the  guide,  "is 
to  take  us  to  the  glacier  and  the  quicker  the  better. 
Neither  Mr.  Richardson  or  myself  care  to  roost  in  these 
trees  over  night." 

"Twon't  be  sundown  till  nigh  midnight,"  grunted  the 
guide,  and  we  all  started  on. 

I  was  following  close  on  the  heels  of  the  guide  as  we 
entered  an  opening,  when  we  all  stopped  and  gazed  in 
astonishment  at  a  dead  glacier.  Two  miles  or  so  away 
stretched  across  the  valley  stood  a  perpendicular  wall  of 
glistening  ice,  about  250  feet  high  and  four  miles  long, 
reaching  across  the  entire  valley. 

To  view  a  glacier  fifty  or  more  miles  wide,  as  I 
found  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  St.  Elias,  winding  its  way  high 
up  into  the  mountain,  where  the  snow  drifts  whirl  blindly 
all  the  summer  day,  where  no  plant  or  animal  abide, 
seems  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  surroundings,  but  to 
emerge. from  a  dense  thicket,  a  valley  teeming  with  animal 
and  vegetable  life,  on  a  hot  summer  day  and  fall  spat 
upon  a  dead  glacier  is  a  sight  which  must  be  seen  to  be 
realized — then  to  know  that  this  vast  field  of  ira  once 
extended  to  the  sea,  but  so  long  ago  that  thousands  of 
acres  of  timber  have  grown  up  in  its  retreating  pathway, 
is  enough  to  astound  any  but  the  simple. 

I  was  lost  in  thought  and  pondered  thus :  In  time  this 
this  ice  mountain  will  waste  away  to  its  fountain  head  and 
a  peaceful  river  will  flow  down  this  warm  valley,  where 
the  inhabitants  on  either  side  of  the  river  will  be  as  unable 
to  realize  the  truth  concerning  the  cold  bed- fellow  that 
once  slept  in  this  Alaskan  cradle,  as  we  are  unable  to 
comprehend  the  fact  that  there  is  not  a  spire  in  Chicago 


166  LOOKING  BACK 

high  enough  to  have  shown  its  tip  above  the  ice  that  once 
lay  over  that  city  during  the  Great  Lakes'  Glacial  Period. 

The  earth  between  us  and  the  glacier  was  carpeted 
with  the  most  beautiful  moss  imaginable,  all  shades  and 
colors,  caused  by  reflection  of  the  sun  from  the  crystal  ice. 
A  solemn  silence  prevailed,  such  as  I  never  experienced 
elsewhere,  broken  at  intervals  by  reports  like  cannons,  oc- 
casioned by  huge  mountains  of  ice  cleaving  off  to  melt  in 
the  sun. 

Li  climbing  the  mountain  side  to  get  upon  the  glacier, 
I  found  ripe  strawberries  within  a  few  feet  of  the  ice, 
and  upon  the  glacier  small  streams  of  water,  which  did 
not  seem  to  melt  the  ice.  Like  all  glaciers,  there  were 
great  boulders  upon  it,  which  had  plunged  down  from 
some  far  away  mountain  and  were  taking  a  slow  cold 
ride.  I  jumped  across  crevices,  where  if  one  should  fall  in 
he  might  go  down  100  feet,  there  to  wedge  in  and  freeze. 
Standing  in  front  of  this  terrible  monster  a  cool  strange 
halo  seems  to  surround,  which  is  far  more  awe-inspiring 
than  that  of  the  Niagara  Falls. 

On  descending  from  the  glacier  we  found  Archibald 
in  a  state  of  agitation,  as  a  thunder  storm  was  approach- 
ing and  all  the  protection  we  possessed  was  straw  hats. 
My  laughing  aroused  his  ire  and  he  used  some  very  un- 
dignified language,  as  the  rain  began  coming  down  in  tor- 
rents, accompanied  by  a  strange  rattling  sound,  which 
seemed  to  be  from  overhead.  Looking  up  we  could  see 
that  several  immense  rocks  from  high  up  the  mountain 
had  become  dislodged  and  had  started  down  a  deep  ravine 
with  such  force  as  to  break  others  from  their  moorings, 
which  also  joined  in  the  mad  run,  roll,  slip,  slide,  plunge. 
The  impetus  was  so  great  and  the  resistance  so  strong  that 
when  the  great  boulders  met  they  flashed  fire  until  the 


LOOKING  BACK  167 

entire  valley  of  racing  rocks,  trees  and  earth  seemed  to 
be  enveloped  in  a  blue  flame,  which  formed  into  a  slide, 
sweeping  everything  in  its  path,  until  it  brought  up  on  the 
plain  below  with  a  slump. 

On  examination  we  found  that  the  immense  quantity 
of  debris  covered  nearly  half  an  acre  and  was  more  than 
fifty  feet  deep.  That  it  had  swept  everything  in  its  path, 
including  trees  more  than  a  foot  in  diameter,  which  were 
broken  up  like  matches.  I  told  Archibald  that  whoever 
got  caught  in  the  descent  of  such  a  mountain  slide  would 
probably  remain  as  deposit  until  Gabriel  blew  his  horn, 
to  which  he  grunted  assent. 

As  I  lingered  upon  the  scene  declaring  that  few  people 
in  the  world  had  ever  seen  such  a  wonderful  sight,  he 
solemnly  vowed  that  he  saw  nothing  peculiar  about  that 
rock  and  mud  different  from  what  he  could  find  in  the 
road  anywhere. 

Wet  to  the  skin,  tired  and  hungry,  we  started  on, 
Archibald  wholly  unprepared  for  the  skirmish  awaiting 
him.  It  soon  cleared  up,  but  every  bush  we  stumbled 
against  showered  down  and  gave  us  a  fresh  bath.  My 
shoes  hurt  my  feet,  and  especially  my  game  toe,  which 
sometimes  cramps,  took  advantage  of  the  situation  and, 
oh,  how  it  did  hurt,  but  I  did  not  mention  it,  for  fear 
Archibald  would  say  I  did  not  enjoy  roughing  it  any 
more  than  he  did,  and  so  we  plodded  on,  anxious  to  reach 
the  landing  where  I  knew  the  Indians  would  give  us  the 
best  thev  had. 


MIRACULOUS  ESCAPE  FROM  A  BEAR 

After  travelling  about  three  miles,  which  seemed  like 
twenty,  we  rested  on  a  log,  when  I  began  rehearsing  the 
sights  and  scenes  of  the  day.  I  said  that  if  compelled 
to  stay  in  the  woods  all  night,  we  ought  to  consider  it  a 
day  well  spent,  but  failing  to  receive  a  hearty  response, 
I  switched  off  into  a  more  lively  subject  by  exclaiming, 
as  I  pointed  into  the  woods,  "See !  See !  There  is  a 
bear  behind  that  log."  The  ruse  worked  all  right  until 
I  proposed  we  rush  in  and  capture  him,  when  Archibald 
declared  this  was  the  last  time  he  should  ever  tour  with 
a  man  who  knew  nothing  and  feared  nothing. 

As  the  sleepiest  dog  will  show  signs  of  great  activity 
when  a  tea-kettle  is  tied  to  his  tail,  so  tired  men,  finding 
themselves  in  a  strange  forest,  will  pick  up  their  heels 
with  amazing  agility  when  uncertainty  confronts  them 
and  the  landing  is  far  away.  Thus  it  was  that  our  gait 
was  quite  lively,  which  both  pleased  and  vexed  his 
mother's  son,  Archibald,  who  had  insisted  on  carrying  the 
guide's  gun  since  I  had  mentioned  that  catamounts  came 
out  for  their  serenade  long  before  sunset.  Our  course 
was  leading  us  through  heavy  timber,  when  I  proposed 
that  we  circle  around  through  an  opening  and  started 
that  way,  the  guide  following,  Archibald  pushed  straight 
through,  saying  that  the  barking  of  dogs  proved  that  we 
were  near  the  landing. 

After  leaving  the  woods  and  climbing  part  way  up 
the  hill,  I  could  see  Archibald  hurrying  through  the  tim- 


LOOKING  BACK  169 

ber  where,  on  account  of  the  fallen  trees,  he  made  but 
little  headway,  so  I  called  out  to  him  to  come  into  the 
opening  where  the  walking  was  better,  to  which  he  re- 
plied, "I  am  not  afraid  to  walk  in  the  woods." 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  was  a  berry  patch,  from  which 
I  had  full  view  along  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where 
nearby  I  saw  three  Indians  running  towards  me  with 
rifles  in  a  position  to  shoot.  Between  me  and  them  was 
a  dark  ravine,  in  which  dogs  were  fiercely  barking,  and 
knowing  they  were  trying  to  kill  something,  I  rushed 
forward  to  see,  when  a  bouncing  black  bear  whipped 
around  the  ledge  and  over  the  knoll  in  the  direction  of 
poor  Archibald.  He  was  closely  pursued  by  the  dogs, 
to  whom  old  Bruin  was  often  compelled  to  stop  and  give 
battle.  When  running  the  dogs  were  upon  his  heels,  and 
when  he  stopped  and  set  up  for  a  fight  he  would  see  the 
gunners  and  light  out  again  regardless  of  the  dogs, 

I  knew  the  bear  would  not  hurt  Archibald  unless  in 
the  act  of  running  over  him,  but  I  began  shouting,  "Look- 
out !  Lookout,  Archibald !  Lookout,  there's  a  bear  after 
you.  Run!  Run!  Run  for  your  life,"  at  which  he 
started  running  toward  me,  thinking  the  bear  was  com- 
ing from  the  other  direction.  As  the  bear  ran  down  the 
hill  with  the  Indians  trying  to  get  a  shot  at  him,  I  could 
see  both  the  bear  and  Archibald  approaching  each  other, 
tvhile  Archibald  was  looking  over  his  shoulder,  so  he  did 
not  see  the  bear  until  he  was  right  upon  him,  when 
turning  quickly  he  dropped  his  gun  and  lit  out  uncere- 
moniously. 

The  panorama  before  me  was  what  the  girls  call  a 
peach — the  shortest,  funniest,  and  most  earnest  sprinting 
match  ever  recorded ;  Indians  chasing  dogs,  dogs  chasing 
bear,  bear  chasing  Archibald,  Archibald  running  for  dear 


170  LOOKING  BACK 

life.  Archibald  did  not  take  a  zigzag  course  as  lightning 
usually  does,  but  shot  straight  ahead  into  the  thicket, 
leaving  no  evidence  of  his  late  departure,  but  an  imagi- 
nary wake.  The  bear,  who  could  not  stand  the  nipping 
of  the  dogs,  turned  again,  and  as  he  raised  up  was  shot 
by  one  of  the  Indians. 

We  could  see  nor  hear  nothing  of  Archibald,  whose 
parting  glimpse  had  aroused  my  concern,  so  I  hurried 
in  the  direction  of  his  disappearance,  crying  out  his  name. 
Leaning  against  a  big  tree  I  put  my  hands  to  my  mouth 
and  helloed  so  loud  that  my  voice  echoed  through  the 
swamp,  when  I  was  surprised  at  his  voice  so  near  me 
saying,  "What  in  the  d-v-1  do  you  want?" 

"\\'here  are  you,  Archibald?" 

"Here  I  am,  up  here." 

"Oh,  yes,  come  down." 

"Did  you  kill  him,  Mr.  Richardson?" 

"Yes,  he  is  dead." 

"Did  he  catch  anybody?" 

"No,  he  was  not  after  anyone.  Come  down  cut  of 
that  tree." 

"Not  after  anyone?  What  is  the  use  of  your  lying. 
If  you  had  not  shot  him  he  would  have  had  me  in  two 
more  jumps.     Is  there  any  more  of  them  ?" 

"No,  there  is  not.  He  was  not  after  you.  He  was< 
running  to  get  away  from  the  dogs.  You  know  I  had 
no  gun.  It  was  the  Indians  who  shot  him.  Come  down 
here !  Come  down !  Here  is  the  gun  which  you  threw 
away." 

"I  am  in  no  particular  hurry  to  come  down.  Say, 
Richardson,  tell  me  how  long  you  expect  to  stay  in  this 
God-forsaken  country?" 


LOOKING  BACK  171 

"Oh,  about  three  weeks  more.  Why?  Do  you  not 
like  Alaska?" 

"Alaska  is  all  right,  but  you  are  so  bull-headed,  taking 
a  fellow  into  such  a  hole  as  this.  Besides,  there  is  noth- 
ing to  see  here." 

"Haven't  you  seen  an  avalanche?" 

"Avalanche?     Nothing  but  stones  rolling  down  hill." 

"And  you've  seen  a  glacier." 

"Glacier?    Nothing  but  a  chunk  of  ice." 

"And  a  bear  right  in  the  woods.  Your  friends  will 
be  glad  to  hear  about " 

"Now  grin,  Mr.  Richardson  !  Sit  there  and  hold  your 
sides  to  keep  from  bursting  with  laughter.  I  swear  if  I 
did  not  know  anymore  than  you  do  I  would  never  com- 
pose a  book.  I  did  think  a  brief  account  of  this  trip 
might  be  interesting,  but  no  one  would  care  for  the  min- 
ute details  as  you  would  give  them.  At  least,  I  hope  they 
will  not  get  into  print  until  after  I  am  dead." 

"Why,  Archibald,  when  you  get  home  you  will  enjoy 
telling  your  friends  all  about  your  adventures  and  hair- 
breath  escapes,  how  bravely  you  faced " 

"Oh,  you  get  out!  Let  us  go  to  the  landing  and  get 
some  more  dodgers  fried  in  bear's  tallow,  that  you  enjoy 
so  much." 

We  stood  in  silence  a  moment,  when  he  put  his  hand 
kindly  on  my  shoulder  as  he  said :  "Mr.  Richardson, 
you  must  not  think  I  mean  everything  I  say,  but  I'm  so 
terribly  wrought  up.  The  glacier  was  so  much  different 
from  what  I  expected,  and  I  was  afraid  you  might  get 
hurt  up  there  alone.  Then  the  landslide  startled  me 
awfully,  for  I  thought  the  whole  mountain  was  coming 
down,  and  that  the  world  might  be  coming  to  an  end. 


172  LOOKING  BACK 

shall  laugh  about  it  when  I  get  home,  but  I  cannot  get  up 
a  smile  now." 

"Certainly  you  will  lavigh  about  this  trip,  Mr.  Arch- 
ibald, in  years  to  come,  especially  when  you  come  to 
consider  that  bears  are  not  like  wolves,  panthers  and 
those  kind  of  fierce  beasts,  which  kill  to  eat.  Besides, 
you  should  not  spleen  at  eating  bear  meat,  for  they  live 
mostly  on  nuts  and  berries  and  sleep  all  winter.  Expe- 
rience is  a  great  teacher,  this  day  will  never  be  forgotten. 
It  adds  to  our  lives  and  we  shall  look  back  to  it  with 
pleasure.     Now,  you're  not  mad?" 

"Mad?  No,  Mr.  Richardson,  I  half  way  love  you, 
and  when  I  think  of  this  fright  I  shall  think  about  you 
as  both  the  best  and  meanest  man  on  my  list.  I  am 
going  to  eat  hearty  on  the  bear  steak  for  supper;  you' 
see  if  I  do  not.  Now  you  can  consider  yourself  for- 
given for  all  except  one  act." 

"What  is  that,  Archibald?" 

"When  you  kept  calling  'Run !  Run !  He  is  after 
you !'  He  was  not  after  me,  he  was  before  me,  and 
you  knew  that  you  were  lying  all  the  time." 

The  last  evening  I  spent  at  Juneau  with  Judge  Mellen 
and  his  interesting  wife.  It  was  ten  o'clock  when  we 
parted.  The  sun  was  still  shining  and  the  birds  singing 
when  we  shook  hands  good-bye,  and  he  said :  "We  will 
meet  again,  where  friends  meet  friends  which  they  loved 
on  earth."  As  the  steamer  pulled  off  from  the  shore  I 
thought  of  the  friends  I  had  gained  in  Alaska  to  make 
my  life  more  interesting  in  that  home  where  the  flowers 
fade  not  and  the  inhabitants  never  grow  old. 


MY  EDUCATION 

In  returning  to  my  mental  endeavors,  I  gladly  con- 
fess that  before  I  had  passed  out  of  my  teens,  my  lack 
of  a  common  school  education  caused  me  deep  regret, 
but  I  braced  myself  bravely  against  adversity  and  soon 
found  myself  working  evenings  over  the  very  rudiments 
of  language  which  I  had  spurned  in  the  old  Birch  School 
House. 

After  my  marriage  to  Mary  Hoyt,  she  took  me  in 
hand  and  together  evenings  we  read  "The  Hoosier  School 
Master,"  "Belle  of  Ores  Islands,"  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin," 
and  many  other  good  books,  after  which  I  struck  in  for 
myself  with  Webster's  unabridged  at  my  elbow.  By 
working  days  and  studying  nights  I  soon  became  con- 
versant with  Stowe,  Eliot,  Dickens,  Shakespeare  and  that 
class  of  literature  which  illustrates  human  nature.  Later 
I  took  up  the  sciences,  geology,  astronomy  and  what 
else  I  cared  for,  together  with  the  languages  under 
private  instructors,  which,  with  my  experience  at  Evans- 
ton,  gave  me  a  comparatively  good  understanding  as  to 
how  these  great  subjects  are  handled  in  our  classical 
institutions  of  learning.  I  never  aspired  to  scholarship ; 
my  ambition  is  to  discern  truth. 

For  diversion  I  am  usually  working  up  some  subject 
which,  when  formed  into  a  book,  I  present  to  my  friends, 
never  thinking  of  recompense,  as  my  business  affords  me 
more  than  I  need,  and  as  to  notoriety,  I  have  no  ambi- 
tion that  way. 

173 


174  LOOKING  BACK 

"Jim  Hall  and  the  Richardsons"  was  my  first  literary 
endeavor.  It  evolved  out  of  my  long  siege  in  ferreting 
out  the  chronological  trail  of  the  Stafford  branch  of 
Richardsons. 

"Rose  Lind"  is  an  assumed  exposure  of  the  far-reach- 
ing evil  influences  of  the  grain  gamblers  on  the  Chicago 
Board  of  Trade. 

"Eight  Days  Out"  is  a  burlesque  on  Phillip,  on  my 
visit  to  the  Soo. 

"Mina  Faust"  is  a  long  love  story. 

"Chicago's  Black  Sheep"  is  a  figurative  illustration 
of  the  criminal  dens  of  Chicago,  and  the  work  of  the 
Salvation  Army. 

"Personality  of  the  Soul"  is  a  review  of  the  pre- 
vailing religion,  as  I  found  them  in  my  extensive 
travels. 

"Twilight  Reflections"  is  an  accumulation  of  indi- 
cations that  mineral,  vegetable  and  animal  existence 
are  the  direct  result  of  scheming  and  are  being  held  or 
driven  by  an  incomprehensible  will  power.  Also,  that 
the  animal,  especially  man,  possesses  slight  creative 
power. 

Somehow,  I  cannot  think  of  the  soul  as  something 
evolving  from  nothing,  or  as  beginning  its  existence 
with  the  formation  of  the  body,  but  rather  as  descend- 
ing to  or  ascending  from  former   existence. 

Pre-existence  is  in  harmony  with  the  teachings  of 
Jesus,  reason  and  eternal  life.  The  animated  body 
comes  into  existence  through  transformation  from  pre- 
existence.  If  that  quality,  to  present,  to  consider,  to 
decide,  exists  it  must  be  a  transformation  of  some 
kind   of  pre-existence.     To  afi^irm   that   God   gave   or 


LOOKING  BACK  175 

created  does  not  im])ly  that  He  gave  or  created  from 
that  which  He  did  not  have. 

I  will  not  question  the  Divine  Power  or  intelli- 
gence, but  I  challenge  man  to  produce  an  indication 
of  existence  only  as  transformation  or  evolution  from 
existence.  The  only  way  to  blot  out  memory  is 
through  unconsciousness,  and  we  know  it  does  not  do 
it.  Eternal  life  is  for  all,  but  souls,  even  in  this  life, 
often  drift  far  apart. 

The  unfathomable,  incomprehensible,  unthinkable 
dark  pocket  of  forgetfullness  conceals  memory  but  it 
does  not  annihilate  it.  If  time  admits  of  no  before, 
space  of  no  beyond  and  matter  of  no  annihilation, 
then  the  law  of  continuity  is  established ;  and  if  we  do 
now  live,  we  have  lived  and  will  live  forever.  Eternal 
life  must  include  the  past  as  well  as  the  future.  Life 
from  God  is  a  declaration  of  pre-existence.  Existence 
beginning  at  conception  or  birth  assumes  something 
evolving  from  nothing. 


HAWAIIAN  ISLANDS 

In  1898,  having  nothing  to  detain  me  and  knowing 
that  my  son  Arthur  could  conduct  my  business  better 
than  I  could,  I  decided  to  take  an  extensive  tour 
around  the  world,  taking  as  much  time  as  I  pleased  in 
visiting  the  interior  of  countries  to  study  the  people 
in  their  natural  condition,  both  physically  and  men- 
tally. 

When  our  boat  passed  through  the  Golden  Gate  into 
the  open  Pacific  a  wild  storm  was  whistling  down  the 
coast  from  Alaska,  which  caused  our  steamer  to  roll 
and  plunge  worse  than  anything  I  have  ever  since 
experienced.  For  five  days  neither  sun  or  stars  ap- 
peared, and  when  we  got  our  reckoning  we  were  five 
hundred  miles  out  of  our  course. 

When  we  neared  the  Hawaiian  Islands  we  saw 
whales,  schools  of  pretty  flying  fish,  sharks  and  por- 
poises, while  large  sea  birds  came  near.  Then,  when 
we  felt  our  cheeks  fanned  by  the  soft  summer  breeze, 
we  forgot  Columbia's  wild  Boreas  and  got  our  silver 
pieces,  so  that  when  the  natives  swam  from  shore  to 
meet  us  we  could  throw  the  money  into  the  deep  sea, 
which  they  would  dive  for  and  usually  bring  up,  even 
though  they  sometimes  swam  more  than  fifty  feet  to 
the  spot  where  it  went  down. 

We  found  the  mid-Pacific  Islands  all  in  bloom.  I 
stayed  there  five  weeks,  in  which  time  I  visited  Kilanea 
Volcano  on  the  Hawaiian  Island  and  all  the  other 
176 


LOOKING  BACK  177 

islands,  of  which  I  will  only  mention  my  trip  to  Man 
Eating  Rock,  which,  to  me,  was  the  most  wonderful. 

THE  ANCIENT  CITADEL 

Paukoonea,  a  deserted,  skillfully  fortified  pre-his- 
toric  fortress  on  which  the  man-eating  rock  still  can 
be  seen,  is  seldom  visited  by  tourists,  and  still  it  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  ancient  and  beautifully  located 
kings'  palace  grounds  on  our  globe.  To  the  thoughtless 
it  is  simply  a  rock  on  an  island.  To  the  thoughtful 
it  is  wonderful. 

Vogue  tradition  has  it  that  long  ago  a  great  world, 
a  mid-Pacific  continent,  existed  in  this  summer  clime. 
One  evening,  as  the  sun  was  going  down,  their  world 
sank  into  the  ocean,  leaving  only  the  mountain  top. 
on  which  more  people  were  huddled  together  than 
could  live.  As  a  necessity  the  priestly  clan,  or  kings, 
barricaded  themslves  on  this  protected  island,  where 
they  shaped  out  a  baking  rock  which  would  preserve 
all  the  juices  of  the  flesh,  and  then  ordered  each  tribe 
to  furnish  their  portion  of  human  beings,  to  be  placed 
on  the  hot  rock  alive  and  cooked  until  palatable.  This 
statement  does  not  seem  so  inconsistent  when  we  learn 
that  when  Cook  discovered  these  islands  the  natives 
were  allowed  only  a  certain  number  of  children  to  each 
pair  of  parents,  and  all  the  over-plus  were  killed  at 
birth. 

At  Waialua  I  found  a  guide.  Major  Jankea,  whose 
father,  grandfather  and  great-grandfather  spent  their 
lives  near  the  fort.  We  rode  up  the  Helamano  River 
about  eight  miles  where,  in  a  bend  among  the  trees, 
he  showed  me  a  large  deep  footed  stone  covered  with 


178  LOOKING  BACK 

dots,  diagonal  lines  and  curves  which  he  said  no  one 
could  read  and  no  one  knew  what  it  represented. 

At  the  fort  we  crossed  the  chasm  on  the  stone  debris 
of  an  ancient  dam,  when  we  began  hunting  for  the  man- 
eating  rock.  We  searched  in  the  grass,  about  four  feet 
tall,  and  found  it  in  about  the  center  of  the  field,  half 
buried  in  the  earth. 

It  was  chipped  and  defaced  all  over.  Originally  it 
must  have  measured  about  three  by  nine  feet,  and  would 
weigh  several  tons.  As  far  as  I  saw  there  were  no  other 
rocks  on  the  surface  of  the  island.  It  is  roughly  carved 
out  to  receive  the  head,  arm,  legs  and  body  of  a  man. 
My  guide  informed  me  that  his  grandfather  said  that 
the  ancient  custom  was  for  four  men  each,  at  an  arm  or 
leg,  to  hold  the  victim  on  the  heated  rock  until  dead,  and 
then  let  him  be  cooked  for  dinner. 

The  citadel,  or  fort  of  the  cannibal  kings,  is  near  the 
source  of  the  Helamano  River,  under  the  Koolauloa 
Mountain.  It  is  about  three  or  four  miles  in  circum- 
ference, protected  by  a  perpendicular  rock  chasm  nearly 
one  hundred  feet  high.  The  gully  surrounding  it  must 
once  have  served  as  an  aqueduct,  the  water  having  been 
held  back  by  the  dam,  which  now,  and  probably  for 
ages,  has  served  as  a  passageway  into  the  ancient 
rendezvous. 

Standing  there  in  the  latter  half  of  February  looking 
west,  the  scene  is  lovely  beyond  description.  The  green 
palms  on  the  Koolauloa  Mountains  serve  as  a  background, 
while  the  Helamano  River,  with  its  fringe  of  trees  all  in 
blossom,  winds  its  way  like  a  ribbon  of  white  roses  away 
to  the  dreamy  old  Pacific  Ocean,  plain  in  view,  but  many 
miles  away.     Then  to   feel  the   spell   of   silence,   where 


LOOKING  BACK  179 

tumult  once  arose,  we  can  but  ask.  "Is  life  a  reality  or 
a  myth?"  and  a  voice  comes  back  from  the  voiceless 
realms  of  the  dead,  they  were  like  us,  simply  passing 
through  earth  life. 


SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS  AND  AUSTRALIA 

In  a  few  weeks  I  found  myself  taking  in  the  South 
Sea  Islands,  admiring  the  pretty  lagoons,  those  tiny  inner- 
ocean  retreats,  where  the  glistening  sandy  beach  is  strewn 
with  miniature  shells  cozily  protected  by  the  surrounding 
palm  groves,  upon  whose  outer  shore  the  mighty  waves 
come  pounding  in  only  to  recede  without  disturbing  the 
finny  tribes  who  never  venture  outside  of  these  inland 
tiny  lagoons. 

At  Apia,  in  the  Samoa  group,  where  lies  the  body 
of  Robert  L.  Stevenson,  I  wondered  not  at  his  choice 
of  selection  for  spending  the  last  days  of  his  life.  Here 
among  the  South  Sea  Islands  he  could  muse  unmolested, 
far  from  the  struggle  for  gain,  and  notoriety.  There  is 
a  beautiful  side  to  those  so-called  barbarian  lives,  and 
one  is  tempted  to  envy  them  their  freedom  as  they  laugh 
and  sing  in  the  bamboo  shade,  and  bathe  at  ease  in  the 
soft  waves  of  the  grand  old  Pacific  Ocean.  One  can 
but  love  them  for  their  simplicity  and  confiding  way  as 
their  wistful  smile  pleads  for  your  generosity  and 
sympathy. 

The  wonder-land  in  the  Friendly  or  South  Sea  Isl- 
and is  Tongo-Taboo.  Here  one  finds  undoubted  traces 
of  a  lost  continent,  in  the  way  of  an  archway,  or  portal, 
through  which  a  people  must  have  passed  before  the 
dawn  of  Babylonian  tradition.  Two  immense  rectangu- 
lar stone  columns  are  seen  tied  together  at  the  top  by 
180 


EASTER  ISLAND. 

^HE   DREAMLAND   OF  THE    SOUTH'  SEAS.     COULD   THEY 
BUT    speak! 


LOOKING  BACK  181 

an   enormous   slab,   on   which   rests   a   huge   stone   bowl, 
The  entire  structure  must  be  nearly  fifty  feet  high. 

There  is  no  quarry  on  this  little  island  from  which  it 
could  have  been  taken,  neither  could  it  have  been  brought 
from  a  distant  land,  for  ancient  boats  were  not  adequate. 

The  quarry  from  which  it  came,  the  mysteries  of  the 
people  who  such  art  designed,  and  the  homes  in  which 
they  lived,  must  be  nearby,  beneath  the  waves. 

To  satisfy  curiosity,  I  took  a  shell  boat  to  Easter  Is- 
and,  where  those  strange  saint-like  statues  with  sealed 
lips  now  stand,  pre-eminent  sentinels,  as  they  have  stood 
since  the  day  when  the  Mid-Pacific  continent  was  a 
prominent  feature  on  our  globe.  On  this  tiny  mid-ocean 
world  the  natives  know  about  as  much  concerning  the 
origin  of  their  clans  as  we  do  about  pre-existence.  They 
shelter  from  storm  in  stone  houses,  of  which  the  walls 
are  four  or  five  feet  thick. 

Many  of  the  inner  walls  still  bear  traces  of  an  intel- 
ligent people.  Hieroglyphic  characters  and  paintings  of 
birds  and  other  animals  adorn  the  inner  walls  of  what 
must  have  been  the  mansions  of  nabobs,  while  many 
statues  of  these  unknown  people  with  thin  lips  and  serious 
countenances  stand  facing  the  sea.  Like  the  fort  on  the 
Helomano  and  the  colossal  on  Tonga,  they  speak  for 
themselves,  and  while  each  have  no  tradition  of  other 
tribes,  still  all  their  languages  spring  from  the  same 
roots. 

As  I  stood  on  deck  gazing  at  these  faces  a  spell  came 
over  me  and  from  above  I  looked  down  on  our  world 
100,000  years  ago. 

Before  me  lay  an  elbow-shaped  mid-Pacific  continent 
2,000  miles  wide  and  8,000  miles  long,  on  which  millions 
of  half -civilized  people  w^ere  passing  their  days  and  years 


182  LOOKING  BACK 

as  we  are  now  doing,  while  the  land  of  the  morning  sun 
teemed  with  shore  and  inland  animal  life  roaming  over 
the  vast  plains  sheltered  by  primeval  forests.  Suddenly, 
as  I  gazed,  the  world  trembled  and  reeled  as  the  vast 
plains  at  the  rising  sun  begun  belching  forth  lightning 
and  fire  amid  peals  of  thunder  destroying  all  animal  life 
as  an  immense  mountain  range  came  forth  like  a  budless 
blossom  far  up  and  down  the  ocean  shore. 

In  horror  I  turned  to  the  mid-ocean  continent  and 
beheld  it  with  all  its  cities  and  inhabitants  sinking  down, 
down  beneath  the  ocean  waves. 

From  this  reverie  I  awoke  and  wondered  who  would 
dare  dispute,  as  soundings  prove  that  such  a  continent, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  mountain  peaks  we  call 
islands,  now  sleep  beneath  those  ocean  waves,  while  the 
bones  and  fossils  of  mammalia  are  found  on  the  Rock) 
Mountain  Range. 

After  visiting  the  Maories  of  New  Zealand,  one  of 
the  remaining  fragments  of  the  South  Sea  Island  tribes, 
who  are  probably  the  finest  specimen  of  aboriginies  in 
the  world,  I  took  in  Australia,  where  the  white  cockatoo 
parrots  move  in  great  flocks  and  the  many  species  of 
kangaroo,  from  the  size  of  a  rabbit  to  a  horse,  sport  in 
the  gardens  to  the  annoyance  of  the  pioneer  farmers,  and 
where  the  sun  shines  in  from  the  north  windows,  the 
north  star  and  great  dipper  have  disappeared,  and  beauti- 
ful new  constellations  appear  in  the  sovtthern  skies,  and 
the  mountains  of  the  moon  are  seen  from  the  other  side. 


NEW  GUINEA 

Copy  of  diary    when    in    Torres    Straits  and  New 
Guinea,  1899: 

April  6. 
Arrived  at   Cooktown   on   Japanese   steamer  Kusuga 
Maru  and  leave  on  schooner  Shilo  for  New  Guinea  next 
day. 

April  8. 
York  Island,  only  three  white  men  besides   Captain 
Mosly,  live  here.     The  captain  tells  sympathetic  stories 
about  the  storm  of  March  3,  when  he  saw  the  ship  his 
son  was  on  go  down.     He  thinks  about  200  men  from 
pearl  hunting  crafts  were  lost  in  the  storm. 
April  9. 
At  sea,  bound  for  Fly  River.     Hot  as  tophet,  but  a 
stiff  breeze.     Find  small  island  inhabited  by  birds,  but 
no  land  quadrupeds,   as  in  dry  season  the  small   fresh 
water  streams  dry  up. 

April    10. 
At  mouth  of  Fly  River.    Approach  main  land.     High 
mountains   appear   in   the   distance.      Great   marshes   on 
either  side,  which  cause  Guinea  fever  to  the  whites,  but 
not  to  the  natives. 

April  11. 

Go  ashore,  several  miles  up  the  river.     Birds,  birds, 

birds  on  all  sides.     I  shot  a  Guinea  pigeon,  looks  like  a 

pheasant,  big  as  a  hen,  soon  have  her  cooked.     Natives 

never  travel  singly,  always  in  groups.     Several  mission- 

183 


184  LOOKING  BACK 

aries  have  been  eaten  here.     One  from  Boston,  but  the 
natives  do  not  look  to  me  particularly  hungry, 

April  12. 
Head  on  for  Port  Moresby,  where  I  am  to  catch 
Burns-Phillips  Co.  steamer.  Go  ashore  on  a  lagoon 
island.  Go  through  the  palms  to  the  miniature  ocean, 
find  a  beautiful  helmet  shell  and  concluded  to  keep  it  and 
gather  others  to  send  home. 

April  13. 
Strike  fleet  of  pearl  shell  boats.  Go  down  in  diving 
suit  about  160  feet.  Bad  job,  starts  the  blood  out  of  my 
ears.  Get  but  one  shell,  which  I  will  send  to  Arthur. 
Most  of  the  divers  are  natives  or  Japs.  One  shipmaster 
owns  and  supplies  about  twenty  diving  boats.  All  shells 
opened  on  the  ship.  Average  about  one  pearl  to  300 
shells.     I  buy  of  native  four  pearls  for  $6.25. 

April  14. 
Port  Moresby  only  live  houses.  Bishop  Stowigg. 
English  missionary,  here.  Find  three  missionaries  at  each 
of  these  little  ports.  Became  acquainted  with  Miss  Tully 
from  Brisbane,  Australia.  She  is  lonesome  and  shed 
tears  when  she  bid  me  farewell. 

April  15. 
Land  at  Samaria.  Find  a  native  here  who  came  from 
the  interior,  where  the  people  go  naked  and  build  their 
houses  in  the  trees.  He  speaks  a  few  words  in  English 
and  considers  himself  an  interpreter.  For  two  silver 
dollars  I  hire  him  to  go  with  me  anywhere  as  long  as  I 
feed  him,  and  when  through  with  him  can  leave  him 
anywhere  on  the  shore.  We  board  the  steamer  here 
for  the  west,  along  the  north  shore.  Everything  and 
everybody  looks  and  smells  as  though  they  had  sat  on 
the  equator  and  fried  ever  since  they  had  been  born. 


LOOKING  BACK  185 

April  16. 
At  sea.  My  appreciative  companions  are  a  mother 
and  four  kittens,  a  captive  young  cassowary,  about  four 
feet  tall,  who  the  captain  declares  will  eat  his  hammer 
and  nails  if  he  does  not  hide  them,  and  three  dogs.  All 
small  dogs  around  here  will  dive  from  the  bow  of  a  boat 
into  deep  water  and  bring  up  a  knife  or  anything  you 
show  them  before  you  throw  it  in.     Dear  little  curs. 

April  17. 
Reach  Kaiser  Wilhelm's  land  and  leave  steamer.  Am 
hearing  terrible  stories  about  the  natives,  men  who  eat 
an  antelope  at  a  meal,  women  with  pompadours  three 
feet  high ;  also  hear  about  snakes  ninety-five  feet  long, 
but  the  stories  come  from  natives  who  cannot  count 
higher  than  the  number  5. 

April  18. 
Catch  excursion  boat  at  Cape  Croiselles  and  start 
west  in  search  of  village  where  the  inhabitants  live  in 
nests  in  the  trees.  Captain  and  mate  are  from  Adalaide, 
Australia,  out  for  the  season  on  about  the  same  kind 
of  a  mission  that  I  am.  Captain  continually  teasing  me 
that  I  am  about  at  the  end  of  my  rope.  Says  he  will 
write  to  Chicago  and  inform  them  that  I  escaped  a 
Jonah  whale  only  to  be  swallowed  by  a  Guinea  nigger. 
The  mate  says  he  will  venture  into  the  interior  with  me, 
at  which  I  assure  him  if  he  will  not  attempt  to  coc|uette 
W'th  the  ladies  he  will  not  be  hurt.  Of  course,  I  advise 
the  captain  to  stay  by  his  anchor  and  avoid  temptation, 
for  I  tell  him  I  see  by  the  size  and  shape  of  his  neck 
that  he  would  become  completely  betwaddled  in  the 
presence  of  nature's  fair  adornments,  or  Papuan  sim- 
plicity. 


186  LOOKING  BACK 

April  19. 

The  mate,  guide,  three  stalwart  blacks  and  myself 
leave  the  boat  in  the  night.  Several  miles  in  we  cross 
a  clear  running  brook,  through  which  we  wade  to  our 
hips.  After  climbing  several  mountain  trails  we  con- 
tinue for  five  or  six  miles  along  a  zigzag  course  under 
the  brow  of  a  mountain  range,  crossing  ravines  in  which 
the  large  birds,  all  of  them  beautiful  in  color,  do  not 
seem  to  fear  us  or  fly  at  our  approach. 

At  openings  I  can  view  the  evergreen,  palm  tree  val- 
ley below,  which  seems  awaking  from  its  dreams  to  greet 
the  rising  sun.  I  call  a  halt  and  look  and  listen,  for  I 
am  charmed. 

About  ten  o'clock,  when  motioned  by  our  guide,  we 
somewhat  nervously  follow  him  to  a  crystal  lake,  sur- 
rounded by  tropical  verdure,  where  we  were  confronted 
with  from  sixty  to  one  hundred  houses  or  nests  built  in 
the  trees  covered,  water-proof  tight,  with  a  sort  of  long 
sea  grass,  which  grows  abundantly  in  all  tropical  marshes. 
Apparently  some  of  the  larger  dwellings,  like  those  of 
the  Alaska  Indians,  would  accommodate  several  families. 
Here  and  there  naked  people,  looking  out  or  climbing 
up  or  down  the  swinging  ladders. 

The  king,  a  young  fellow,  after  learning  our  wants, 
invites  us  to  stay  a  moon,  which  I  think  would  have  been 
perfectly  safe  if  we  did  not  wander  away  from  the 
village. 

I  then  presented  the  king  with  the  presents  I  had 
brought,  six  large  jack  knives  and  six  cheap  hatchets,  after 
which  they  began  to  show  us  things,  how  and  what  they 
cooked,  how  they  caught  game,  fight,  dance,  worship  and 
lastly  how  they  clear  a  guilty  conscience. 

This  is  done  by  immersion  in  clear  water  by  moon- 


LOOKING  BACK  187 

light,  when  the  god  in  the  moon  forgives  all.  They  be- 
lieve that  the  sovils  of  the  dead  linger  around  those  whom 
they  loved  on  earth. 

The  king  and  several  others  gave  me  rudely  orna- 
mented shell  rings.  A  lady  to  whom  I  gave  a  silver 
dollar  gives  me  a  pretty  shell  which  she  had  herself 
ornamented  with  the  sharp  end  of  a  stone,  also  she  gave 
me  her  petticoats  which  females  wear  when  at  the  sea 
shore.  (I  have  these  mementoes  yet.)  The  petticoat 
consists  of  a  waist-band  to  which  is  attached  loose  ring- 
lets down  to  the  knees,  all  made  of  sea  grass.  Once  I 
caught  two  girls  winking,  laughing  and  making  fun  of 
me.  All  females  stand  sideways  to  the  males  and  look 
and  talk  over  their  shoulder.     ]\Iany  have  fine  physiques. 

There  are  few  quadrupeds  here,  but  this  seems  to  be 
the  home  of  birds. 

The  cassowary  is  larger  than  an  ostrich.  Their  flesh 
is  said  to  taste  like  turkey.  The  plumage  of  some  birds 
is  wonderful.  Especially  the  lyrebird,  who  struts  like  a 
tom-turkey.  Over  twenty  species  of  the  bird  of  paradise 
are  said  to  live  here. 

All  kind  of  tropical  fruit  grow  wild  and  in  great 
abundance.  Bread  fruit  trees  grow  quickly  and  furnish 
500  to  1,000  pounds  of  food  each,  substance  about  equal 
to  oatmeal. 

Many  from  Chicago  may  well  envy  these  kind,  timid, 
primitive  people  their  sunshine  career  as  compared  to 
our  daily  struggle  for  ascendancy. 

As  I  am  about  to  leave  these  people,  who  are  huddled 
around  me,  out  of  curiosity  I  look  one  after  another  of 
each  sex  squarely  in  the  eyes  for  recognition,  and  I  get 
the  response  every  time.  Not  that  steady  stare  of  the 
snake,   dog,   or  gorilla,   but  that   conscious   response   of 


188  LOOKING  BACK 

affection  between  souls.  This  satisfies  me  that  men  are 
not  improved  beasts,  but  rather  distinct  creatures  en- 
dowed with  certain  soul-responsive  looks,  self -controlling 
powers,  gifts  which  cannot  be  mentally  experienced. 

April  24. 

After  several  days  among  the  verdure  islands  with 
broad,  glistening,  sandy  shores,  strewn  with  large  and 
small  shells,  I  find  myself  among  the  Solomon  Islands, 
about  500  miles  from  New  Guinea. 

I  am  glad  I  came  here,  for  it  seems  like  a  dream  of 
the  long,  long  ago.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  naked 
natives,  flying  foxes,  and  shore  fowls,  these  islands  must 
resemble  the  great  lake  region  at  home  in  the  carbonifer- 
ous age.  The  age  after  the  great  Mississippi  Valley  in- 
land sea  had  fled  away  from  the  shores.  The  age  before 
the  vegetation  had  lured  the  sea  family  through  the  long 
reptilean  age  into  the  mammalian  age,  when  the  mastodon 
roamed  the  palm  groves  of  Michigan  and  the  great  dino- 
therium  lived  on  the  marshy  plains  of  Colorado,  before 
the  Rocky  Mountains  had  raised  their  now  silent,  dreary 
forms. 

If  there  was  a  day  in  Illinois  when  the  Crustacean 
invertebrate  families  lined  the  hot  ocean  shores  and  the 
vegetation  grew  thirty  feet  high,  it  must  have  resembled 
this  equatorial  region  now,  for  although  clear  today,  I 
am  told  it  rains  almost  daily,  and  up  the  mountain  sides 
as  far  as  I  can  see  thfe  vegetation  is  wonderful. 

A  sort  of  inspiration  seems  to  pervade  the  forests  of 
New  Guinea  and  the  Samoa  group,  but  this  carboniferous 
clime  has  little  charm.  For  although  white  sand  beaches 
miles  wide  strewn  with  shell  against  a  background  of 
waving  palms,  is  a  sight  long  to  be  remembered,  I  some- 


LOOKING  BACK  189 

how  feel  I  am  associating  with  clams,  turtles  and  pelicans 
of  the  "evening  and  morning  of  the  fifth  day,"  so  I  will 
now  leave  for  Cape  York,  to  catch  the  Futami  Meru, 
which  is  to  call  there  May  17th. 


COCHIN   CHINA 

Briefly  I  must  mention  the  interesting  countries  of 
Anam  and  Siam. 

Saigon,  a  city  of  Anam,  that  country  which  the 
French  gobbled  up  from  the  helpless  natives,  is  to  me, 
the  most  beautiful  city  in  the  world. 

The  Mongolian  natives  here  are  modest-nice  for  hot 
climate  people. 

The  females  wear  loose  gauze  habits,  protecting  from 
the  neck  to  the  bare  toes. 

It  is  amusing  to  see  a  group  of  these  ladies  on  an 
afternoon  outing,  riding  in  a  wooden  cart  drawn  by  one 
lazy  ox.  I  have  often  felt  like  patting  both  the  ox  and 
the  ladies. 

Paddy  fish  come  ashore  here  in  great  schools,  flop- 
ping into  and  damaging  the  gardens  and  rice  fields. 

In  the  park  they  have  on  exhibition  a  sacred  ele- 
phant, which  they  claim  saved  the  life  of  one  of  their 
kings  more  than  one  thousand  years  ago.  He  is  really 
covered  with  moss,  apparently  blind  and  quite  feeble. 
This  is  the  home  of  the  spotted  fawn,  of  which  their 
babies  seem  so  dear. 

In  Siam  the  women  and  the  men  wear  only  a  breach 
cloth.  Both  sexes  wear  their  hair  cut  short,  so  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  distinguish  one  from  the  other. 

Monkeys  here  are  as  tame  as  robins  at  home,  and 
lizards  two  feet  long  crawl  over  one's  bed,  but  they  do 
not  bite. 

190 


LOOKING  BACK  191 

Of  the  nineteen  million  inhabitants  over  one  million 
are  priests.  It  takes  three  hundred  of  them  to  do  the 
praying  in  the  one  temple  here  in  Bangkok.  This  is 
where  the  eagles,  three  feet  tall,  gather  from  the  moun- 
tains to  devour  the  bodies  of  the  dead  who  had  not  left 
money  enough  to  pay  the  priests  for  the  cremation 
ceremony. 

The  present  king  has  five  hundred  wives,  seventy-five 
sons  and  seven  white  elephants  on  his  hands,  and  yet  he 
is  not  happy.  It  was  from  here  that  General  Grant  went 
into  the  forest  to  see  wild  elephants.  The  herds  are  not 
feeding  here  now,  so  with  two  French  tourists  I  have 
stopped  over  at  Tringano,  on  the  west  coast  of  the  Gulf 
of  Siam. 

The  elephants  of  India  are  being  rapidly  thinned  out, 
as  they  with  the  tigers  hold  forest  lands  v/hich  when  de- 
veloped are  very  productive. 

The  elephant  herds  move  slowly  on  irregular  circuit, 
eating  everything  about  them. 

We  found  no  great  number  together  as  in  a  herd  of 
cattle ;  sometimes  only  one  and  never  more  than  five  in 
a  group. 

It  can  be  no  trick  for  the  exultant  European  sports- 
men to  shoot  them,  for  they  are  not  wild  and  will  hurt 
no  one,  unless  it  be  an  old  defeated  bull,  who  are  said 
to  be  ferocious  at  times. 

Ivory  now  in  use  is  not,  as  a  rule,  from  the  now  living 
elephants.  The  natives  search  it  out  from  under  the 
forest  debris,  where  the  remains  of  elephants  who  lived 
thousands  of  years  ago  are  found. 


MESOPOTAMIA 

After  visiting  the  interior  of  Japan,  China,  Anam, 
Siam,  Ceylon,  India,  Persia,  Arabia,  I  found  myself,  in 
the  evening  of  November  2,  1899,  at  Bagdad,  Turkey,  in 
close  communion  with  our  American  consul,  Rudolph 
Hurner,  who  had  held  that  position  from  the  United 
States  to  Mesopotamia  for  about  thirty  years.  Bagdad 
is  about  400  miles  from  the  Persian  gulf,  and  is  now 
the  largest  Mesopotamian  city  of  the  old  Babylonain  em- 
pire, whose  kings  once  caused  the  world  to  wince. 

Mesopotamia,  like  the  valley  of  the  Yangtsekiang,  is 
by  nature  very  productive.  Either,  if  properly  cultivated, 
would  supply  rice  sufficient  to  sustain  the  world,  but  here 
the  outrageous  taxes,  together  with  the  wild  men  of  the 
desert  scare  away  all  enterprise,  while  in  China  the 
Yaw-men  actually  absorb  the  products  of  the  soil  through 
the  imposition  of  exchange. 


192 


WITH   CONSUL   HERNER'S   SERVANTS   IN   BAGDAD,   MESOPOTAMIA. 


RUD  HURNER 

"Now,  Mr.  Richardson,"  said  Consul  Hurner,  as  in 
the  twilight  we  stood  in  his  tropical  garden,  which  over- 
looks the  Tigris  River,  "you  had  better  take  my  advice 
and  not  go  beyond  Hille.  It  is  better  to  take  the  course 
of  other  travelers.  Go  to  the  border  of  civilization  and 
then  get  some  well-informed  native  to  give  you  particu- 
lars, which  you  can  polish  up  and  call  it  experience,  like 
the  assumed  traveler  in  the  Star  and  Crescent,  who  boxed 
our  dead  in  coffins,  a  custom  unknown  here. 

"I  have  represented  the  United  States  here  for  years 
and  have  probably  entertained  every  American  traveler 
who  has  visited  Baylon,  Nipper  and  other  biblical  land- 
marks here.  None  have  been  so  hazardous  as  to  go 
among  a  people  who  are  so  bigoted  that  they  consider  it 
their  religious  duty  to  kill  those  who  would  interfere  with 
their  mode  of  worship.  From  reports  of  stragglers,  or 
desert  herdsmen,  there  are,  I  presume,  twenty  thousand 
people  in  Nazzip  or  Me-Schwad,  mostly  children  of 
Bedouins.  They  have  no  schools,  no  maps  of  the  world, 
do  not  know  north  from  south  and  their  wealth  has  been 
gained  through  wild  raids  on  the  Mohammedan  fanatics 
bringing  their  dead  to  the  ancient  shrine  of  Nazzip,  mostly 
from  Persia  and  India." 

"I  came  out  to  see  the  elephant,  Mr.  Hurner,"  I  said, 

"and  while  I  appreciate  your  advice,  I  am  not  afraid  of 

those  people.    I  go  open-handed  with  little  money,  which 

they  could  use,  and  with  a  disposition  to  appreciate  in- 

193 


194  LOOKING  BACK 

stead  of  criticize.  My  experience  with  the  unciviHzed 
has  been  that  if  one  mind  his  own  business,  and  do  not 
stray  from  the  crowd,  their  confidence  is  soon  gained, 
and  they  soon  show  indications  of  sympathy  and  love. 
Do  you  think  my  men  will  back  out  of  the  agreement?" 

"Well,  let  me  see.  Old  Shammo  has  been  acting  as 
cook  and  guide  around  here  for  twenty-five  years.  He 
boasts  that  he  conducted  a  funeral  party  down  the  Shat- 
El-Chebar  and  over  to  Me-Schwad  twenty  years  ago.  He 
may  be  lying  about  that,  but  I  think  for  the  price  you 
offer  he  will  stick  to  you.  Then  Moses  is  a  daring  fellow, 
whom  you  can  rely  upon.  You  ought  to  know  him;  he 
just  came  up  on  the  boat  with  you.  He  has  been  to 
Africa,  has  he  not?  He  will  help  you,  as  he  speaks  a 
little  broken  English.  I  think  by  what  I  can  learn,  he  is 
the  best  fitted  man  in  Bagdad  for  you.  Alker  his  half- 
brother,  will  probably  stick  by  you  also.  Tatus,  the 
wealthy  man's  son,  is  anxious  to  learn  about  the  south, 
and  will  probably  go  where  Moses  goes  and  stay  where 
Moses  stays.  I  think  they  are  all  Shea-Mohammedans, 
and  while  they  are  looked  upon  with  suspicion  they  are 
in  much  less  danger  than  you  are. 

"You  see,  I  have  your  passport  signed  and  sealed  by 
the  Turkish  authorities,  so  you  must  exhibit  that  con- 
tinually, and  if  the  Sheiks  are  not  able  to  read  one  word 
of  it  they  will  recognize  the  quail  tracks,  and  think  it  is 
an  order  from  Constantinople  for  you  and  your  escort 
to  pass  through.  Then  with  our  arrangements  for  Nim 
Burr's  old  solid-wood-wheeled  stage  and  the  six  mounted 
police,  you  will  get  through  to  Babylon  all  right,  that  is 
if  they  do  not  lay  down  on  you  and  make  you  pay  them 
over  again.  I  think  if  you  furnish,  as  you  seem  to  be 
doing,  a  quarter  of  mutton  to  each  man  for  lunch,  they 


LOOKING  BACK  195 

will  go  through  all  right,  for  it  cannot  be  more  than  thirty 
or  forty  miles  to  Babylon. 

"From  Hille,  which  is  built  from  the  ruins  of  old 
Babylon,  to  Chuffel,  with  a  good  mounted  squad,  you 
will  make  it  easily,  for  they  will  think  you  are  rabbinical 
tourists  to  Burr's  Nimrod  and  Ezekiel's  tomb. 

"If  you  could  be  satisfied  to  visit  Karbilla,  where  there 
is  also  a  temple  for  the  Mohammedan  dead,  you  could 
probably  run  across  the  desert  from  Burr's  Nimrod  in 
safety,  but  if  you  approach  the  wealthy  interior  city 
called  Me-Schwad  or  Nazzip,  where  the  temple  is,  in 
which  they  claim  Allah,  the  brother-in-law  of  Mohammet, 
was  buried,  you  may  find  a  decidedly  warm  reception 
and  you  may  not — I  do  not  know.  I  often  thought  I 
would  like  to  go  there  myself. 

"You  may  think  it  strange,  Mr.  Richardson,  that 
there  is  no  map  of  that  district,  or  statistics,  or  census  of 
the  inhabitants  of  so  vast  a  country  and  city,  which  like 
the  sphinx  of  the  Nile,  sits  with  its  face  to  the  broad 
valley  before  it  and  its  back  to  the  great  desert,  which 
is  inhabited  by  roving  Bedouins,  who  respect  no  law,  pay 
no  taxes,  and  love  their  horses  more  than  they  do  their 
wives  and  children,  but  it  is  practically  true. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Richardson,  it  is  this  way:  like  a 
Russian  Jew  who  will  spend  a  life's  careful  savings  for 
one  journey  to  the  tomb  of  Abraham,  so  these  Shea- 
Mohammedans,  who  are  scattered  over  Arabia,  Persia, 
Messopotamis  and  even  into  India,  who  have  amassed  a 
small  fortune,  arrange  that  when  they  die  their  relatives 
start  with  their  embalmed  bodies — not  in  coffins,  but 
wound  in  tarred  linen — to  carry  them  on  horses  or  camels 
either  to  Mecca,  Me-Schwad  or  Karbilla. 

"When  they  arrive,  the  ceremony  for  the  dead  is  in 


196  LOOKING  BACK 

accordance  with  the  amount  of  money  they  bring.  After 
the  funeral,  the  friends  of  the  dead  stay  in  town  on  a 
protracted  spree  until  their  money  is  spent,  then  beg  or 
steal  their  way  home.  Thus  you  see  that  the  sacred  tem- 
ples are  a  source  of  income,  and  wealth  has  its  influence 
in  the  Orient  just  the  same  as  in  your  own  Yankeedom. 
When  those  mourners  are  returning  home,  either  from 
ignorance  or  fear,  they  keep  mum  as  to  the  city,  condi- 
tions, the  final  disposal  of  the  bodies  and  everything  else. 
Simply  it  is  an  honor  to  lug  along  a  putrid  carcass  and 
lay  it  in  the  gilded  temple  of  Allah. 

"Now,  my  good  friend  Richardson,  while  it  may  be 
that  Moses  will  bring  you  back  safe,  still  you  better  take 
my  advice  and  give  up  Me-Schwad.  When  you  get  to 
Babylon  get  a  heavy  escort  of  cavalry  and  run  down  to 
Nipper,  a  ruins  more  ancient  than  Babylon,  where  you 
will  find  an  old  Yankee  from  Boston  rooting  around  the 
debris  expecting  every  day  to  unearth  the  private  library 
of  Adam  with  the  spinning  wheel  of  Mother  Eve,  and 
place  them  on  exhibition  in  the  world's  gallery  of  fame. 
Now,  will  you  give  up  that  trip  to  Nazzip,  or  must  you 
go  into  the  stamping  grounds  of  the  dare-devil  Moham- 
medans ?" 

"Consul,"  I  said,  as  I  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm  and 
smiled  into  his  face,  "your  caution  is  appreciated,  but  it 
does  not  budge  me  a  hair."  Then  we  both  laughed  loud, 
and  he  ordered  more  cofi"ee  or  something  else,  after 
which  I  continvied :  "I  have  been  among  the  cannibals 
and  they  treated  me  royally.  Of  course,  it  is  necessary 
for  one  to  take  good  care  not  to  be  ambushed  and  eat 
food  only  from  their  own  cook,  with,  of  course,  a  proper 
guard  when  on  the  desert.  Now,  that  isn't  all,  Mr.  Hur- 
ner.    I  am  going  to  join  the  big  caravan  on  its  way  from 


LOOKING  BACK  197 

Persia  to  Palestine,  and  you  do  not  like  that  either,  do 
you  ?" 

"Mr.  Richardson,  I  wish  you  could  see  your  finish 
before  you  start.  Of  course,  Oriental  traders,  half-breeds 
and  camel  drivers,  who  sometimes  speak  a  little  English, 
often  take  refuge  in  those  caravans,  but  they  are  not  like 
tourists.  During  my  consulship  here,  no  tourist  has 
passed  over  the  Dier  and  Tadmore  route.  You  know 
you  will  be  as  lousy  as  a  badger  in  three  days,  and  if 
you  die,  they  may  not  even  bury  you  in  the  sand,  but  leave 
you  for  the  vultures  to  eat.'' 

"Nonsense,  if  I  avoid  accidents  and  do  not  stray  from 
the  camp  I  shall  be  all  right,  for  no  well  man  can  get 
sick  in  six  weeks  if  he  sticks  to  his  tea,  rusk,  eggs  and 
mutton." 

"All  right,  my  American  invincible,  just  one  more 
word  and  I  am  through.  You  remember  the  first  night 
that  you  came  to  Bagdad,  how  I  took  you  out  on  the 
desert  to  show  you  where  we  had  a  fair  two  years  ago, 
and  pointed  out  the  spot  where  the  Bedouins  came  down 
upon  us  and  at  the  point  of  their  daggers  took  our  col- 
lection and  not  one  of  them  were  arrested.  I  do  this  to 
impress  upon  your  mind  the  fact  that  the  Sabeans  who 
fell  upon  the  family  of  Job  still  linger  on  the  desert  wild 
Now  as  we  have  argued  so  long  you  must  be  weary, 
so  please  join  me  again  in  refreshments  before  my  guard 
takes  you  to  your  room." 


OFF  FOR  BABYLON 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  November  6,  1899, 
we  crossed  the  Tigris  River  in  a  tropical  downpour,  and 
struck  out  for  the  ruins  of  Babylon.  About  nine  o'clock 
we  halted  for  breakfast,  where  the  hotel  reminded  me  of 
a  blacksmith  shop,  with  several  fireplaces  and  no  roof. 
The  plan  in  that  country  is  for  wayfarers  to  furnish  their 
own  food,  cook  it  themselves,  and  when  they  can  find 
the  landlord,  pay  about  one-third  cent  each  for  the  accom- 
modation, while  the  lodging  is  free  anywhere  on  the 
ground.  Of  course,  everyone  pays  their  bills  there,  for 
the  custom  of  the  Turks  and  Bedouins  is  to  kill  thieves 
and  burn  them  with  their  families  and  their  entire 
belongings. 

No  sooner  had  our  squad  been  filled  with  eggs  and 
chickens  than  they  began  to  grumble  that  they  could  not 
take  us  to  Babylon  on  the  price  paid,  but  must  leave 
us  at  Messaya  on  the  Euphrates,  where  we  could  descend 
the  river  in  a  boat. 

Moses  now  showed  his  teeth.  Shammo  began  to 
bawl  and  everyone  took  a  hand  in  the  row  but  myself. 
They  all  talked  so  fast  and  loud  that  all  I  could  under- 
stand was  the  profanity  of  Moses,  who  was  a  brave  fel- 
low and  stood  up  for  my  rights  as  best  as  he  could. 

After  the  excitement  had  subsided,  Moses  explained 

that  he  could  force  them  to  take  us  through,  but  was 

afraid  they  might  move  slow  and  purposely  leave  us  on 

the  desert  for  the  night,  so  I  ordered  them  to  turn  over 

198 


LOOKING  BACK  199 

to  Messaya,  where  we  arrived  about  four  o'clock  p.  m., 
when  I  decided  the  safest  way  was  to  have  boats  take  us 
across  the  river  at  dark,  and  when  out  of  sight  of  the 
village,  pay  the  oarsmen  big  money,  or  force  them  to 
take  us  all  the  way  down  the  river  to  Babylon,  the  dis- 
tance of  which,  as  near  as  I  could  learn,  was  somewhere 
between  three  and  thirty  miles.  Our  offer  was  gladly 
accepted,  and  we  considered  ourselves  safe,  as  the  Be- 
douins around  Messava  would  not  know  where  we  were. 


ON  THE  EUPHRATES 

While  gliding  down  the  fourth  Bible  river,  the  Eu- 
phrates, the  moon  came  up  and  seemed  to  turn  its  soft 
face  upon  the  silence  and  as  I  began  singing  "Old  Black 
Joe,"  the  jackals  along  the  shore  joined  in,  possibly  think- 
ing by  my  voice  that  we  were  all  descendants  from  one 
father.  All  were  soon  asleep  but  the  oarsmen  and  myself, 
and  I  became  lonesome  as  I  thought  of  the  days  of  the 
Aecadian  priesthood,  the  Babylonian  kings,  Ezekiel  and 
his  people,  Alexander  the  Great,  who  died  here,  all  felled 
by  the  sickle  of  the  reaper,  Time,  and  here  in  silence  I 
seemed  to  ask,  "Where  have  they  gone?" 

We  arrived  at  Babylon  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  I  was  given  the  bed  of  Mr.  Nelson,  the  hospit- 
able German  explorer,  and  the  next  morning  we  took  in 
the  ruins,  and  slept  in  Hille  the  next  night.  The  follow- 
ing day  we  rode  on  donkeys  to  Burr's  Nimrod,  a  wonder- 
ful ruins  built  of  pot-shaped  bricks,  each  weighing  sev- 
eral tons.  The  tower  or  temple  Ziggurat  must  have 
been  built  at  the  top  of  an  artificial  mountain  on  the  plain, 
about  seven  or  eight  miles  from  the  ruins  of  Babylon. 
Many  think  that  the  ancient  city  like  Nineveh  extended 
beyond  Burr's  Nimrod.  From  Burr's  Nimrod  on  camels 
we  rode  to  Chuffel,  a  village  on  the  Chebar  River,  where 
we  entered  Ezekiel's  tomb,  of  which  the  Mohammedons 
allow  no  Jew  to  enter.  Still  around  the  open  space 
there  were  several  tents  occupied  by  orthodox  Jews,  who 
had  come  from  afar  to  worship  at  the  shrine  of  their 
beloved  ancestors. 

200 


ON  THE  SHAT-EL-CHEBAR 

At  Chuffel  our  trouble  began.  The  Sheik  would  not 
let  us  stay  over  night  in  the  town,  we  had  no  tent,  even 
if  we  had  dared  to  sleep  in  the  open,  and  the  next  city, 
Koofa,  was  open  only  to  Mohammedans,  on  their  way  to 
Nazzip  with  their  dead.  I  began  to  laugh,  which  pro- 
voked even  Moses,  but  we  soon  found  relief  in  a  man 
with  one  wall  eye,  minus  a  hat,  shoes  or  pants,  who 
with  his  helpers  was  accustomed  to  conduct  funeral 
parties  down  the  Chebar  River  to  Koofa.  He  held  us  up 
for  the  enormous  sum  of  one  silver  dollar  for  the  ride, 
and  for  another  dollar  would  venture  to  land  us  in  the 
corpse  room  at  Koofa,  that  is  if  it  was  not  already  oc- 
cupied by  other  corpses.  Again  I  smiled  as  I  thought 
what  would  my  son  Arthur  say  if  he  could  step  into  this 
boat  just  now  and  learn  of  the  encouraging  prospects. 
jNIoses  and  his  helpers  now  became  a  trifle  alarmed  at 
the  situation,  and  while  we  were  eating  our  chicken, 
fried  in  camel's  tallow,  I  kept  laughing,  which  made 
Alkar  mad,  and  he  remarked  to  Moses  that  he  believed 
I  was  a  fool,  traveling  on  borrowed  money. 

After  the  owner  of  the  boat  and  his  helpers  had 
paddled  us  down  the  river  until  about  ten  o'clock  at 
night,  we  hove  in  sight  of  a  few  dim  lights,  which  made 
me  scratch  my  head  a  trifle,  when  I  learned  it  was  Koofa. 
My  men  were  all  wearing  a  sort  of  sickly  grin  since  we 
had  learned  that  the  Sheik  of  Koofa  had  never  before 
been  imposed  upon  in  this  way,  and  I  was  beginning  to 
201  ^ 


202  LOOKING  BACK 

feel  that  there  might  have  been  a  trifle  of  virtue  in  Con- 
sul Hurner's  advice,  but  I  slapped  Moses  on  the  shoulder 
and  said,  "The  metal  in  a  man  shows  up  only  in  cases 
of  an  emergency,"  to  which  he  smiled  complacently,  as 
though  he  had  been  assured  that  he  had  all  night  to  live. 


KOOFA,  ARABIA 

At  the  mud  landing,  more  than  fifty  had  assembled, 
each  hoping  to  earn  a  half -penny  by  carrying  a  corpse 
up  the  hill  where,  according  to  tradition,  the  Prophet 
Ezekiel  had  probably  walked  on  his  bare  feet  many  times, 
for  Koofa  was  a  city  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Shat-El- 
Chebar,  long  before  Abraham  left  this  region  for  the 
land   of   Canaan. 

AMien  all  was  ready  for  the  funeral  march  and 
Shammo  had  been  loaded  with  the  luggage,  which  con- 
sisted of  pillows,  blankets  and  cooking  utensils,  his  face 
actually  did  take  on  the  mournful  hue  of  an  undertaker 
carrying  the  dead  across  the  dark  river. 

Our  guide  sang  out  something  which  I  supposed 
indicated  that  a  burial  troop  was  following  as  he  dashed 
through  the  crowd,  up  the  clifif,  dodging  this  way  and 
that  through  the  dark,  alley-like  streets  and  rooms,  where 
tall  men  with  dark  visages  sat  on  high  benches  and 
scowled  at  our  approach,  until  he  landed  us  in  a  square 
cement  room,  about  12x12,  with  no  ventilation  save  a  hole 
over  the  door,  when  he  mysteriously  disappeared,  taking 
his  dim  oil  light  with  him. 

Soon  officers  appeared  whom,  I  could  see.  were  con- 
fused. Moses  tried  to  pacify  them  by  saying  I  was  a  rich 
man  and  would  pay  much  money,  but  they  did  not  seem 
to  pacify,  because  the  rich  man  was  neither  a  Moham- 
medan nor  a  dead  man.  Their  howling  was  to  the  effect 
that  the  owner  of  the  room  was  ruined,  as  no  dead  Mo- 
203 


204  LOOKING  BACK 

hammedan  would  consent  to  be  laid  in  that  room  after 
we  had  occupied  it.  At  last,  after  Moses  had  killed  all 
the  time  he  possibly  could,  I  demanded  to  see  the  Sheik, 
which  request  is  never  refused  among  the  Arabs. 


THE  SHEIK  OF  KOOFA 

Soon  a  guard  of  about  twenty  appeared  and  started 
with  Moses  and  myself  to  consult  the  Sheik ;  while  all  the 
town,  men,  women  and  children,  ran  on  either  side  of  us, 
eager  to  get  a  glimpse  of  my  pants,  as,  apparently, 
neither  sex  had  ever  seen  before,  or  much  less,  donned 
such  tight-fitting  garments. 

After  walking  probably  a  mile  we  entered  a  dark  alley, 
where,  on  one  of  the  side  walls,  our  escort  began  pound- 
ing and  crying  out  until  a  grufif  voice,  which  came  as 
through  a  tube  back  of  us,  answered,  and  after  a  long 
wait  we  saw  a  dimm  light  right  back  of  where  we  were 
standing,  but  no  one  appeared. 

\\'hile  we  were  waiting  Moses  jokingly  inquired  of 
me,  ''Do  you  wish  you  were  in  Chicago?"  "No,"  I  re- 
plied, "it  is  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  there  now  and 
they  are  all  working  hard,  while  I  am  enjoying  touring 
just  waiting  here  in  the  shadows  for  permission  to  go  to 
bed."  "You're  a  queer  sort  of  a  cuss,"  was  his  smiling 
retort. 

At  length,  after  the  voice  and  the  officer  had  talked 
back  and  forth  through  the  hole,  of  which  I  overheard 
them  speak  the  words  English,  Christian,  Devil,  Moham- 
medan, Bagdad,  Nazzip  and  a  few  other  words  which  I 
could  understand,  there  seemed  to  be  a  stir,  as  some  one 
from  the  inside  began  taking  down  boards ;  and  with  two 
of  the  party,  Moses  and  myself  crept  up  the  rickety  stair- 
way, feeling  our  way  through  a  long,  dark  hall  which 
205 


206  LOOKING  BACK 

opened  into  a  room  about  20x40.  In  this  room,  which 
was  the  palace  of  the  Sheik,  there  was  no  furniture  save 
a  bed,  table  and  a  long  bench.  On  the  table  was  burning 
an  oiled  rag,  one  end  soaking  in  a  dish  shaped  like  a 
wooden  shoe. 

In  the  center  of  the  large  bed,  which  was,  as  near 
as  I  could  see,  composed  of  a  mass  of  beautiful  soft 
rugs,  sat  a  sharp  featured  man  with  piercing  black  eyes 
and  long  white  hair  and  whiskers.  His  face  revealed  no 
form  or  air  of  authority,  but  on  the  contrary,  his  sun- 
burned features  wore  a  friendly  smile  while  he  gazed 
fixedly  at  me,  apparently  paying  no  attention  to  the  offi- 
cers' gabble,  who  were  apparently  over-estimating  the 
enormity  of  the  crime. 

While  he  studied  me  I  studied  him,  and  concluded 
that  in  his  care  I  was  all  right.  Finally  he  inquired  of 
Moses  if  I  had  friends  in  America,  and  why  I  came  to  a 
sacred  city  without  permission,  at  which  Moses  turned  to 
me  for  explanation.  After  explaining  my  position  and 
truthfully  telling  him  how  we  came  into  what  we  knew 
was  a  forbidden  town  because  we  were  afraid  to  stay  out- 
side, I  then,  through  Moses,  word  for  word,  explained 
that  Americans  always  heard  that  the  chiefs  of  Arab 
tribes  were  great  and  good  men,  and  were  hospitable  to 
strangers ;  especially  when  they  did  not  interfere  with 
their  religion.  This  was  the  substance  of  my  drift, 
although  we  talked  back  and  forth  for  more  than  an  hour. 

A  skittish  scene  now  took  place ;  he  called  the  chief 
officer  to  his  side  on  the  bed  and  by  the  dim  light  they 
began  whispering,  so  Moses  and  I  could  not  hear,  occa- 
sionally turning  their  piercing  gaze  on  me.  At  the 
conclusion  he  dismissed  his  officer  and  told  Moses  to 
tell  me  that  at  Me-Schwad  they  had  a  room  for  such 


LOOKING  BACK  207 

people,  and  we  must  go  there,  for  which  he  would  send 
a  heavy  guard  to  protect  us.  Then  it  took  about  ten  min- 
utes for  him  to  express  his  gratitude  for  my  confidence 
in  him  and  his  protecting  power,  and  he  wanted  me  to 
feel  that  Allah  loved  upright  strangers  in  all  the  world. 

I  then  asked  him  if  the  guards  at  Me-Schwad  would 
let  us  into  the  city,  as  it  was  now  past  midnight.  To  this 
he  replied,  "No,"  but  said  his  force  should  furnish  blan- 
kets and  guard  us  all  night. 

I  hesitated  and  looked  down,  which  made  him  inquire 
of  Moses  if  I  was  sorry,  at  which  I  looked  him  kindly  in 
the  face  as  Moses  interpreted  each  word,  and  said  that 
I  was  sorry  to  go  home  and  tell  my  people  that  the  Sheik 
of  Koofa  had  sent  me  away  in  the  desert  in  the  dark. 

Now  he  called  the  guard  again,  and  after  another 
continued  whispering  decided  we  could  stay  in  the  room 
over  night,  but  must  be  prepared  to  leave  at  surise  in  the 
morning.  As  I  left  the  room  I  felt  his  powerful  influence 
on  me,  and  turning  quickly,  I  again  met  that  kindly  gaze 
as  the  old  chief  raised  his  thin,  bloodless  hand  adieu. 
That  night  in  my  prayers  I  thanked  God  that  the  mag- 
nanimity of  Abraham  still  tinged  the  veins  of  his  people, 
even  though  they  were  deprived  of  the  world's  bounties 
through  non-progressive  bigotry. 

Soon  I  was  peacefully  resting  in  the  unventilated 
room,  which  my  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  world 
would  have  spurned,  but  to  me  it  was  experience,  and  I 
was  glad  to  know  that  pity,  love  and  sympathy  were  not 
confined  to  any  one  people,  but  were  God-given  attributes 
to  humanity. 

My  sweet  dreams,  if  such  they  were,  were  cut  short 
by  Shammo,  who  began  frying  camel  steak,  goat  or  some 


208  LOOKING  BACK 

other  kind  of  meat  close  by  my  head,  and  soon  we  learned 
that  the  Sheik  had  ordered  his  special  body  guard  to  take 
us  to  Me-Schwad,  Arabia,  which  was  about  twenty-five 
mile  southwest  from  Koofa,  over  the  trackless  desert. 


J 


WILD,  YET  BEAUTIFUL 

At  sunrise,  leaving  Shammo  to  care  for  the  luggage, 
we  mounted  spirited  horses  selected  for  us,  and  with  an 
escort  of  about  one  hundred  cavalry  picked  our  way, 
Indian  file,  up  through  the  lane-like  streets  of  Koofa  until 
we  reached  the  summit,  from  which  we  had  a  view  of  the 
surrounding  country,  especially  ancient  Nazzip,  now- 
called  both  Nazzip  and  Me-Schwab,  which  lay  on  a  rise 
of  ground  before  us,  just  far  enough  away  to  conceal 
its  grossness. 

The  morning  sun  at  our  backs  cast  its  golden  rays 
across  the  desert  wild  intrespersed  with  clumps  of  verd- 
ure green.  Over  and  beyond  lay,  face  to  us,  the  silver 
side-hill  city  of  Nazzip,  like  the  Arab  himself,  whose 
ambition  is  an  array  of  dashing  splendor.  The  Moham- 
medan pride  appeared  decorated  with  polished  steeples 
and  spires  coated  with  sheets  of  silver  and  polished 
bronze,  while  the  great  Allah  temple  sat  as  a  center  piece. 
As  we  neared  the  scene  it  became  grotesque,  but  in  the  far 
away  it  looked  like  a  dazzling  gem,  set  in  soft  Oriental 
drapery.  A  thoughtless  vision  seemed  to  confuse  me 
with  the  scene  as  I  said  to  myself,  "Oh,  if  my  Chicago 
friends  were  here  to  enjoy  this  enthusiasm." 

Now  all  the  horses,  with  heads  high,  who  could  run 
like  greyhounds,  amid  the  whoops  and  howls  of  the 
braves  of  the  desert,  struck  out  wildly  for  the  Oriental 
Silver  Shrine.  This  was  too  much  for  me,  and  forgetting 
that  I  was  to  avoid  all  risks  I  stood  in  my  stirrups  and 
209 


210  LOOKING  BACK 

urged  my  horse  forward  in  the  race,  which  had  broken 
its  ranks,  and  soon  found  myself  near  the  front  of  the 
now  go-as-you-please,  bawling  to  my  steed  like  a  regular 
Buffalo  Bill,  and  this  was  kept  up  all  the  way  to  Me- 
Schwab.  When  I  liberally  recompensed  the  chief  he 
kissed  me,  and  I  kissed  him ;  then  he  put  his  arm  around 
me  and  shook  me  and  kissed  me  again,  then  they  all 
cheered  and  were  off. 


NAZZIP 

On  entering  through  the  gates  we  found  ourselves 
in  an  open  space  of  probably  twenty-five  acres,  with  high 
walls  on  the  north,  east  and  south,  apparently  set  aside 
for  plays,  prayers,  public  trade  or  exchange  and,  possibly, 
a  place  of  protection  for  Bedouin  rovers.  It  was  a  pretty 
place,  and  when  at  certain  hours  the  priest  calls  out  his 
Allah  song  from  the  tower,  to  see  hundreds  of  people 
drop  on  their  knees  and  faces  in  the  attitude  of  worship 
is  a  sight  long  to  be  remembered. 

Our  quarters,  or  jail,  was  a  porch  on  the  south,  facing 
the  open  space  of  which  we  were  not  allowed  to  step  out- 
side, except  to  the  roof,  unless  accompanied  by  officers. 

After  coffee  and  rest,  I  begged  permission  to  be  taken 
about  town,  which  was  refused.  Again  I  demanded  to 
see  the  Sheik,  which  was  always  granted.  But  the  Sheik 
actually  looked  astonished,  and  smiled  at  my  audacity 
when  Moses  informed  him  that  I  wished  to  be  shown 
through  the  great  temple  of  Allah,  but  he  was  courteous 
and  explained  that  their  people,  the  Sheas,  were  very 
strict.  They  were  better  than  the  Seanees,  who  would 
eat  with  foreigners,  while  the  Sheas  would  throw  away 
any  piece  of  furniture  or  dish  once  used  by  them.  He 
finally  consented  for  the  guard  to  take  us  through  the 
streets  we  wished  to  visit,  where  I  found  that  they  would 
sell  their  own  manufacture,  lace,  rugs,  bronze,  etc.,  to 
their  own  people  only,  but  throvigh  strategy  I  purrhased 
some  amber  beads. 

211 


THE  MAN  I  HAD  SEEN  BEFORE 

While  the  officers  were  conducting  us  through  the 
town  I  noticed  a  dark  fellow,  whom  I  had  somewhere 
seen  before,  following  us  and  laughing  at  my  jokes,  which 
were  spoken  to  Moses  mostly  in  English.  When  I  spoke 
to  him  he  feigned  not  to  understand  English,  and  began 
drawing  me  out  of  the  few  Arabic  words  which  I  had 
learned,  at  which  he  laughed  and  said  he  could  speak  ten 
tongues,  including  English.  He  said  he  knew  all  about 
me,  but  I  had  forgotten  him.  I  then  had  Moses  question 
him,  but  could  get  so  little  satisfaction  that  we  concluded 
he  was  a  fake,  but  he  followed  us  and  managed  to  advise 
me  that  I  had  better  leave  Me-Schwab  in  the  dark;  also 
that  the  Sheik  might  not  consent  for  us  to  stay  over  again. 
Then  I  tried  hard  to  think  where  I  had  seen  r.im,  but  I 
could  not. 

After  we  had  been  hustled  back  to  our  jail  a  party 
who  owned  the  only  wooden-wheeled  wagon  in  that  world 
came  to  bargain  with  me  to  take  us  to  Karbilla.  Two 
women,  they  said,  were  wanting  to  go  with  us,  and  we 
had  better  go  through  in  the  night,  to  which  I  objected, 
but  after  much  wrangling  we  fixed  on  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  for  the  start. 

Again  I  appeared  before  the  Sheik,  for  permission  to 
visit  the  Mohammedan  cemeteries.  He  was  reluctant,  but 
finally  consented,  with  whispered  instructions  to  the 
guard,  who  took  us  outside  the  gate  to  a  little  hill,  where 
we  could  see  the  graveyard  about  a  mile  distant,  and  then 
hustled  us  right  back  to  our  pen. 

At  one  o'clock,  after  we  had  swallowed  our  camel 
212 


LOOKING  BACK  213 

steak  and  coffee,  we  were  taken  to  the  carry-all,  where  we 
found  two  masked  women  just  arriving,  whom  I  knew 
were  quite  young  by  their  movements.  A  soft  rug  was 
stretched  across  to  separate  us  from  the  women,  who 
seemed  to  be  housekeeping  in  the  rear  flat  of  the  wagon, 
and  we  in  the  front.  As  our  start  was  delayed,  I  snuggled 
back  against  the  rug  which  partitioned  us  from  the 
females,  and  soon  realized  that  someone  on  the  other  side 
was  snuggling  up  against  me.  Wlien  I  aroused  to  inquire 
about  our  departure  she  would  speak  to  the  other  woman, 
then  we  would  resume  our  comfortable  position,  until 
her  head  dropped  on  my  shoulder  and  nature's  sweet 
repose  drove  all  our  cares  away — of  course  both  of  us 
were  asleep.  Thus  we  waited  until  after  light,  all 
grumbling  except  us  who  were  asleep. 

About  sunrise  the  driver,  with  six  Arabian  steeds, 
in  true  Bedouin  style,  circled  the  open  space  on  a  wild 
run,  then  dashing  out  through  the  gates  struck  out  for 
the  north,  which  took  us  between  the  two  cemeteries 
to  which  we  had  been  refused  admittance  the  previous 
evening.  They  ran  the  down  grade  at  high  speed,  ap- 
parently so  we  could  not  see  the  tombs ;  but,  when  just 
at  the  point  of  curiosity,  one  wheel  ran  off  and  we  were 
dumped  in  the  sand,  where  the  women  lost  their  masks. 
One  of  them  looked  slyly  at  me  with  her  soul  brim  full 
of  laughter,  as  she  placed  her  hands  on  my  shoulders  and 
shook  me  playfully;  I  did  not  understand  her  affection, 
although  under  those  circumstances  I  appreciated  it  and 
wished  we  could  each  tell  our  story  to  the  other. 


REAL  BEDOUINS  AFTER  US 

I  concluded  that  this  ruse  was  being  given  to  intimi- 
date me,  but  later  we  experienced  something  more  serious. 

The  road  between  Nazzip  and  Karbillia  is  supposed  to 
be  more  safe  than  the  Koofa  route,  as  it  is  guarded  by 
squads  of  Turkish  cavalry.  At  noon  we  changed  horses 
and  ate  barley  cakes  for  dinner,  cooked  by  slapping  the 
dough  on  the  inside  of  a  heated  cement  barrel.  When  we 
were  ready  to  start  again  we  could  not  find  out  why  we 
did  not  go. 

We  had  now  recrossed  the  desert  and  descended 
from  the  plateau  into  the  valley  of  the  Messopotamia, 
where  our  trail  ran  between  the  Chebar  River  and  the 
clilTs  on  the  west.  All  the  while  we  had  been  waiting  our 
two  drivers  had  remained  on  the  cliffs,  where  we  could 
not  see  them,  but  I  was  not  nervous,  as  I  had  become 
accustomed  to  waiting.  Our  suspicion  was  not  aroused 
until  we  started,  when  the  drivers  yelled  our  six-horse 
team  into  a  wild  run,  shaking  the  old  crate  wagon  from 
side  to  side,  for  about  five  miles,  when  we  heard  reports 
of  firearms,  and  suddenly  came  to  a  stop.  Then  the 
drivers,  together  with  the  passengers,  sisters  and  all,  ran 
up  the  craggy  steeps  onto  the  open  plain,  where  in  the 
distance  we  saw  about  ten  Bedouins  leaning  on  their 
horses'  necks  running  for  dear  life,  followed  by  a  squad 
of  Turkish  cavalry  who  were  firing  at  them  with  no  effect, 
for  they  were  too  far  away. 

I  declared  at  once  that  it  was  a  plot  to  frighten  me 
214 


LOOKING  BACK  215 

out  of  the  Mohammedan  Stamping  Grounds,  but  our 
guard,  who  had  been  riding  to  the  west  of  our  route  all 
day,  said  that  the  teamsters  who  came  down  with  our 
cary-all  from  Karbilla  a  few  days  previous  had  killed 
a  camel  man  of  the  great  herd  which  we  were  about  to 
pass  through,  and  that  the  Bedouins  were  the  dead  man's 
friends  from  the  camel  camp,  who  intended  to  kill  all  of 
us  for  re.venge.  Also,  that  the  reason  we  staved  so  long 
in  the  night  and  where  we  lunched  was  for  the  cavalry 
to  arrive  from  Nazzip  to  chase  the  Bedouins  away.  Then 
I  decided  that,  if  our  guard  had  told  the  truth,  the  Arabs 
were  not  so  bad  after  all. 

We  soon  struck  a  herd  of  about  8,000  camels  feeding 
on  the  grass  and  briars  along  the  Shat-El-Chebar.  It  was  a 
sight  to  see  them,  with  their  two  or  three  hundred  Arabian 
family  tents,  surrounded  by  horses,  dogs,  goats,  sheep, 
chickens  and  children,  leading  the  sleepy  life  of  our  way- 
side gypsies,  seeming  to  have  no  inspiration  for  a  change 
in  their  condition,  as  one  generation  follows  another.  On 
each  voyage,  or  tour,  said  to  occupy  about  live  years, 
they  go  collecting  camels  at  the  round-up  on  the  wilds 
of  the  great  desert  and  driving  them  to  Persia,  of  course 
selling  and  trading  all  the  way  along  the  creatures,  both 
human  and  dumb,  reproducing  on  the  way.  The  pastur- 
age is  free  but  the  government  taxes  are  heavy,  being 
nearly  fifty  per  cent  of  the  value  of  the  animal,  which  is 
paid  in  such  stock  as  they  own.  Arabian  herdsmen  are 
generous  and  hospitable,  but,  when  aroused  by  what  they 
consider  wrong,  they  are  exceedingly  ferocious.  We 
camped  with  them  several  days,  and  if  I  had  a  better  grip 
on  their  language  I  would  like  to  travel  a  year  or  two  in 
one  of  those  herdsmen's  caravans  and  write  them  up  as 
the  family  from  which  Abraham  was  called,  for  from  the 


216  LOOKING  BACK 

time  of  the  historical  events  of  Abraham  to  now  there 
has  probably  been  little  or  no  change  in  their  daily  life. 
Their  helpfulness  and  hospitality,  without  expecting  re- 
compense, often  reminded  me  of  the  story  of  Moses 
helping  the  Midian  girls  to  water  their  flocks. 


SUSPICION  AROUSED 

Upon  my  return  to  Bagdad  the  Consul  took  me  home 
to  dinner,  where  he  related  a  long,  amusing  story,  of 
which  I  will  make  a  short  one.  He  said  that  the  morning 
after  I  left  Bagdad  the  Turkish  Emissary  from  Constan- 
tinople sent  his  deputy  to  him  to  inquire  who  the  stranger 
from  America  was  and  what  he  wanted,  to  which  the 
Consul  referred  to  my  passport,  which  had  been  presented 
to  them,  and  then  told  them  all  he  knew  about  me. 
Again,  in  the  evening,  they  sent  to  him  to  learn  where  I 
had  gone,  whereupon  Hurner,  thinking  I  would  be  more 
likely  to  go  to  Niffer  than  the  interior,  told  them  I  had 
gone  to  visit  my  United  States  friend  who  was  exploring 
the  ruins  at  that  place. 

Again  they  sent,  to  inquire  if  any  treasure  had  been 
found  at  Niffer,  to  which  the  Consul  jokingly  replied, 
"Why,  haven't  you  heard  that  they  have  found  a  sub- 
terranean pocket  of  valuables?  And  I  suppose  Richard- 
son is  here  to  take  them  out  of  the  country  by  way  of  the 
Persian  Gulf.  I  hear  he  has  several  camels  on  the  spot; 
but  this  is  all  hearsay,  through  the  Bedouins,  and  may  not 
be  true." 

In  less  than  an  hour,  said  Hurner,  two  hundred 
cavalry,  with  shining  sabres,  were  on  the  dash  over  the 
sixty  miles  of  straight  across  desert  sand  to  intercept 
the  American  thief.  Their  approach  was  a  surprise  to 
the  old  Bostonian,  who  was  simply  examining  each  brick 
217 


218  LOOKING  BACK 

as  they  came  out  of  the  debris,  and  innocently  declared 
he  had  seen  no  treasure  or  anything  of  the  American. 

JONA  AND  HIS  WIVES 

The  next  morning  I  received  a  caller  whom  1  recog- 
nized at  once  as  the  stranger  I  had  met  in  Nazzip.  After 
I  incjuired  how  he  got  to  Bagdad  so  soon,  he  told  me  he 
had  joined  the  horsemen  from  Nazzip  who  protected  me. 
I  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  saying  he  knew  me. 

"Were  you  at  Jask,  Persia?"  he  began. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "Jask  is  v/here  I  saw,  in  the  distance, 
those  rocky,  book-like  mountains,  so  beautiful." 

"Did  you  go  ashore  ?" 

"I  did." 

"Did  you  see  me?" 

"No." 

"On  your  retvirn  to  the  steamer  did  you  assist  two 
Mohammedan  women?" 

"I  did.     Americans  always  assist  the  ladies." 

"Did  you  go  ashore  at  Bahrein,  Arabia?" 

I  said,  "Yes,  that  is  where  S.  M.  Zwemer,  a  missionary 
from  the  Dutch  Reform  Church  of  Holland,  Michigan, 
rode  with  us  on  donkeys  to  Riggeb-Gem,  that  ruin  more 
ancient  than  Babylon." 

"On  the  return  to  the  steamer  did  you  assist  those 
women  again  ?" 

"I  did,  I  stood  in  the  water  to  my  hips  and  assisted 
each  from  their  wet  donkey  to  the  barge.  When  on  board 
one  gave  me  a  pomegranite,  and  when  she  saw  I  did  not 
know  what  it  was,  she  took  it  from  me  with  a  laugh 
and  fixed  it  with  sugar  so  I  could  eat  it." 

"Those  women,  stranger,  were  my  wives.  Did  you 
know  that  your  frankness  gained  their  affection  ?" 


LOOKING  BACK  219 

"Your  wives !  Gee-whiz,  were  those  women  at  Me- 
Schwad  the  same  women  I  met  on  the  steamer?  Say, 
friend,  where  did  you  come  from,  and  where  are  you 
going?" 

"Aly  name  is  Jona.  I  am  a  nabob,  my  home  is  the 
desert  thirty  days  journey  from  Muscat,  but  we  wih  not 
burden  each  other  with  our  history.  I  have  learned  that 
you  are  bound  for  Tadmor,  and  so  am  I.  Now,  can  you 
tell  me  anything  more  about  the  last  days  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  and  the  last  days  of  Mary  Magdalene  than  is 
found  in  your  testament,  with  which  I  am  familiar?" 

I  hesitated,  and  then  said :  "I  did  not  come  into  this 
country  as  a  missionary,  I  came  to  study  the  people.  I 
would  not  interfere  with  your  Mohammedan  faith." 

"You  Christians  mistake  our  position  in  regard  to 
Jesus.  Jesus,  as  Mohammed,  was  a  wonderful  spiritual 
teacher  from  the  living  God,  but  until  all  worshipers  of 
the  spiritual  God  drop  their  materialism,  of  which  the 
resurrection  of  the  physical  body  of  Jesus  is  the  most 
ungodlike,  this  world  will  continue  to  be  the  abode  of 
ignorance,  which  is  the  generator  of  sin ;  but  enough  on 
that  score  for  now,  for  I  intend  to  join  you  on  your 
journey  to  Tadmor,  and  I  trust  you  will  hereafter  pass 
my  wives  unnoticed." 

"If  I  see  one  of  your  wiv^s  falling,  head  downward 
from  a  camel,  shall  I  save  her  from  breaking  her  neck?" 

"Not  if  she  falls  intentionally;  but  let  us  return  to  the 
object  of  my  call,  the  story  of  Mary  Magdalene  and  Jesus 
in  their  last  days." 

"Mary  Magdalene  was  all  right,  friend,  but  how  about 
your  girl  wife,  who  shook  me  so  fondly  when  I  saw 
her   face?" 

"Oh,   she   admired   v-qu''    frankness ;   she   is   mad,    so 


220  LOOKING  BACK 

please  pass  her  unnoticed   on  our  journey  to  Tadmor. 
Now  to  change  the  subject. 

"All  organized  nations,  Syria  not  being  the  least, 
after  the  fame  of  Jesus  spread  abroad,  sent  scribes  to 
listen  at  his  feet  and  report,  which  report  was  included 
in  the  collection  for  our  Family  Tree  Tribe,  with  a  record 
of  the  life  and  death  of  Mary  Magdalene  in  which  she 
shines  forth  as  a  feminine  beauty  of  wonderful  spiritual 
comprehension.  This  report,  with  that  of  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem  and  the  final  attempt  to  crush  out  Christi- 
anity, has  been  carried  by  us  in  tradition  but  lost  in  record 
for  many  centuries.  Lately  we  have  been  told  that  the 
original  manuscripts  still  exist  in  the  ruins  of  our  ancient 
citadel  in  Tadmor  (Palmyra.) 


THE  RECHABITES 

"We  styled  ourselves  Rechabites  because  we  lived  in 
open  air,  drank  no  wine  and  mingled  with  no  other  tribes. 
We  descended  from  Adam  through  the  Kenites.  Our 
rendezvous  at  the  time  of  David  was  at  Jabes,  but  in  the 
days  of  Jeremiah  we  came  to  Tadmor,  where  we  as- 
sembled yearly  to  pay  tithes  for  over  a  thousand  years. 

"Now  we  are  dispersed  throughout  the  Orient,  and 
pay  no  tithes,  yet  we  hold  sacred  our  peaceful  attitude 
toward  strangers,  our  education  as  scribes,  our  nomad 
life  and  our  abhorrence  to  strong  drink.  The  family 
tree  is  disappearing,  for  we  are  intermarrying;  even  my 
mother  was  an  Indian  from  Karachi. 

"My  object  in  this  journey  is,  if  possible,  to  collect 
the  Aramaic  manuscripts  of  the  tribe,  that  they  may  be 
handed  down  in  an  unbroken  line,  thus  completing  our 
family  tree.  I  can  tell  you  more  particulars  about  our 
people,  and  many  incidents  about  Mary  Magdalene,  even 
if  we  do  not  find  the  manuscripts.  For  we  will  journey 
together." 

"Please  let  me  ask  you  one  question,  Mr.  Jona,  and 
then  you  can  proceed.  Do  you  intend  me  to  understand 
that  you  expect  to  find  the  original  report  or  document  at 
Tadmor,  or  is  it  a  legend  of  a  later  author  of  your  tribe 
who  was  familiar  with  traditional  accounts  of  Jesus  and 
Mary    Magdalene  ?" 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  understand  anything  only  that 
I  hope  to  find  manuscripts  which  will  satisfy  all  that 
221 


222  LOOKING  BACK 

Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  a  spiritual  representative  of  God, 
and  that  after  His  death  He  appeared  to  ]\Iary  Mag- 
dalene." 

"I  understand  you  now,  go  on  about  your  rendezvous." 

"As  I  said  concerning  our  people,  the  Hebrews,  who 
thought  God  had  chosen  them  to  disseminate  His  love  and 
care  over  this  world,  became  bigoted  through  priesthood 
and  set  up  a  cry  that  they  were  retainers  instead  of  dis- 
seminators. This  caused  a  breach  between  us  and  the 
Gentiles,  who  mande  war  with  us ;  but  our  tribe,  the 
Rechabites,  held  aloof,  enjoying  our  nomad  life  until 
Babylonia,  spurred  on  by  Syria,  began  preparations  for 
that  world-wide  foraging  tour  toward  Canaan.  Then  our 
tribe,  fearful  of  an  onslaught,  held  council  and  decided 
to  take  shelter  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  did  so 
until  Jehoiakim,  through  Jeremiah,  attempted  to  get  us 
drunk,  when  we  again  held  council  and  decided  to  throw 
ourselves  upon  the  mercy  of  the  Babylonian  King,  who 
in  turn  permitted  us  to  assemble  at  Tadmor,  exempt  from 
army  service. 

"Tadmor  now  became  our  home,  and  upon  the  brow 
of  the  mountain  which  overlooks  the  city  we  excavated 
a  broad  and  deep  channel  in  the  rock,  around  a  center  on 
which  we  built  a  wonderful  castle,  the  crown  to  the  gem 
of  the  desert,  Tadmor.  In  its  sacred  archives  were  kept 
all  the  manuscripts  of  our  tribe.  Since  we  abandoned  it 
I  have  heard  they  still  call  it  by  our  family  name,  'The 
Castle  of  the  Rechabs.' 

"Recently  we  have  heard  that  some  kind  of  documents 
or  manuscripts  are  still  in  keeping  by  a  descendant  of 
our  clan,  so  my  people  have  deputized  me  to  go  on  this 
journey." 

"If  it  would  be  agreeable  to  you,  Mr.  Jona,  I  would 


LOOKING  BACK  223 

like  that  we  group  our  sub-caravans  for  the  journey." 

"Thanks  for  your  hospitahty,  but  for  reasons  pre- 
viously expressed  we  will  tent  separately.  You  and  I  will 
ride  side  by  side,  that  I  may  enjoy  the  influence  of  your 
inspiring  thoughts ;  but,  really,  you  would  not  enjoy  the 
company  of  the  woman,  who  you  could  neither  see  or 
understand." 

"Why  in  the  d 1,  Jona,  do  you  not  let  them  throw 

off  those  masks,  just  for  this  journey,  and  allow  the 
sweet  sunshine,  which  the  flowers  on  the  desert  are  per- 
mitted to  enjoy,  be  experienced  by  your  wives,  whom, 
by  your  barbarous  custom,  you  place  in  dark  coffins 
before  they  die?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Richardson.  I  understand  you  all  right,  but 
my  people  would  not.  Please  do  not  mention  that  subject 
again.  Now  please  attend  to  the  details  of  your  wants  for 
our  journey  with  the  Persian  caravan,  which  is  now 
arriving,  for  we  must  be  ready  for  the  forward  move- 
ment, which  will  take  place  in  about  four  days." 

Not  willing  to  let  up  on  the  subject,  I  continued: 
"Do  your  women  ever  find  fault  with  the  way  you  treat 
them?" 

"Yes,  all  women  are  dissatisfied." 

"They  are  not.  Our  women  at  home  are  the  sunshine 
of  our  lives." 

"Please  do  not  talk  any  more  on  that  subject,"  he  said 
as  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  neck  with  his  flowing 
sleeve. 

Many  were  the  peculiar  incidents  in  our  caravan  of 
over  fifteen  hundred  souls  on  our  long  journey  of  twenty- 
nine  days  up  the  Euphrates  and  over  the  desert,  all  of 
which  I  must  pass  over,  noticing  only  Jona  and  his  group 
as  they  appeared  on  the  desert. 


224  LOOKING  BACK 

Jona,  astride  of  his  beautiful,  fleet  Arabian,  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  mammoth  black  camel  loaded  down  with 
about  eight  hundred  pounds  of  luggage.  Following  next 
was  a  tall,  gaunt,  mouse-colored  camel  on  which  was  a 
platform  fastened  to  the  saddle ;  of  which,  on  either  side 
over  the  camel's  sides,  were  attached  covered  seats  which 
looked  like  dog  houses.  In  each  of  these  dog  houses  was 
a  wife,  his  favorite  and  her  assistant,  Fatima.  Each 
wore  a  veil  over  her  head,  jewels  on  her  fingers,  ankles, 
wrists,  ears  and  neck,  attired  in  a  loose  wrapper.  Ori- 
ental nabobs  usually  travel  with  two  wives,  their  favorite 
and  her  assistant.  The  elder,  in  this  case,  was  his  favor- 
ite ;  she  bossed  him  around  just  like  American  wives 
do  their  husbands,  not  by  force  but  through  influence ; 
as  Abraham  obeyed  Sarah,  and  sent  the  guileless  Hagar 
into  the  wilderness,  regardless  of  his  feelings. 

A  sort  of  Jacob's  ladder,  on  which  the  women  de- 
scended to  and  from  their  roost,  was  among  the  luggage 
on  the  pack  camel,  and  notwithstanding  the  charge  of  my 
Rechabite  friend  that  I  was  not  to  disquiet  his  wives,  I 
continually  placed  the  ladder  and  assisted  Fatima  and 
his  favorite  to  ascend  as  soon  as  we  struck  camp ;  for  if 
I  had  not,  Jona  was  liable  to  leave  his  wives  and  other 
luggage  on  the  camel  until  we  had  been  on  the  sand  for  an 
hour.  Fatima  and  I  were  usually  side  by  side  evenings, 
when  her  aptness  in  catching  the  English  words  and  re- 
turning them  to  me  in  Arabic  surprised  me. 


SLEEPING  BEAUTY  OF  THE  DESERT 

On  the  twenty-eighth  day,  about  eleven  o'clock  P.  M., 
weary  from  the  long  day  journey,  I  dined  again  on  tea 
and  toast,  and  with  my  boots  on  dropped  on  my  cot,  just 
for  a  moment;  and  seemingly  before  the  moment  had 
massed  the  morning  sun  peeped  in  and  awoke  me  from  my 
sweet  dream  of  home.  I  awoke  Jona,  and  while  the  camp 
still  slumbered  we  ascended  a  rise  of  ground  to  gaze  on 
that  silent  form  of  grandeurs  which  lay  before  us,  full 
twenty  miles  away.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  penetrate, 
north  and  south,  the  Syrian  highlands,  long  known  as 
the  haunt  of  the  most  ferocious  Bedouins,  loomed  up, 
where  about  in  the  center,  seemingly  imbedded  in  the 
glistening  cliff,  lay  the  ruins  of  the  once  proud  city  of 
Tadmor,  the  queen  of  the  desert.  For,  while  Nineveh 
and  Babylon  at  their  best  were  old  gray  monks,  Tadmor, 
in  the  days  of  David,  with  her  stately  granite  columns 
from  the  Nile,  coquetted  with  the  morning  sun  like  a 
maiden  in  her  teens. 

Breakfast  again  of  tea  and  toast,  when  Jona  and  I, 
with  a  guard  of  twelve  horsemen,  started  for  a  run  over 
the  hilly  plain  which  lay  between  us  and  the  ruins,  leaving 
the  wives  and  other  luggage  to  come  along  with  the  cara- 
van, which  would  reach  Tadmor  some  time  before  next 
morning.  Before  starting  I  promised  our  escorts  a  piece 
of  silver  each  if  we  should  reach  the  ruins  in  an  hour. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  the  ride  was  inspiring, 
but  very  tame  compared  to  the  wild  ride  at  Nazzip,  for  we 
225 


226  LOOKING  BACK 

ran  steadily  on  over  the  sand-drifted  desert,  while  the 
sweat  on  the  horses'  necks  soon  worked  into  a  foam ;  and 
although  the  distance  was  nearer  twenty-five  than  twenty 
miles,  we  reined  up  to  the  temple  of  the  sun  in  about 
ninety  minutes,  when  I  gave  two  pieces  of  silver  to  each, 
for  which  they  carried  me  in  their  arms  through  the 
ancient  archway  where  there  were  once  swinging  gates 
nearly  sixty  feet  in  height,  through  which  Solomon  had 
many  times  passed.  Then  they  lugged  me  to  the  market 
and  coaxed  me  to  buy  them  a  camel  bone  for  soup,  which 
I  did,  on  the  promise  that  I  was  to  have  some  of  the 
soup,  but  I  forgot  to  come  around  on  time. 


THE  ABANDONED  CASTLE 

Jona,  as  I  expected,  found  the  castle,  but  no  relative 
in  Tadmor;  nor  anyone  who  had  ever  heard  who  built 
or  occupied  the  Fort-Castle  on  the  rocks  overlooking  the 
city.  I  then  questioned  him  again  as  to  whether  there  had 
ever  been  such  a  family  tradition  concerning  Mary  Mag- 
dalene as  he  had  related,  to  which  he  stoutly  maintained 
there  had  been,  and  that  Mary  Magdalene,  the  fair 
Galilean  Goddess  whose  life  was  interwoven  into  the 
family  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  had  once  been  a  bright 
feature  in  the  traditional  tree  of  the  Rechabites,  but  when 
or  by  whom  it  was  introduced  he  did  not  know. 

With  Jona's  plat  of  the  ancient  ruins,  we  passed  up 
through  the  once  beautiful  city,  where  the  immense 
granite  columns  from  Egypt  still  stand  single,  in  groups 
and  in  lines,  retaining  their  caps,  crowns  and  arches. 

As  described  by  Jona,  we  found  upon  the  hill  which 
overlooks  the  city  the  once  elegant  rock  castle,  surrounded 
by  a  deep  Water  channel  quarried  from  the  solid  rock, 
as  before  described,  but,  apparently,  no  one  had  lived 
there  for  ages. 

Then,  by  following  his  plat  west  of  the  city  proper, 
we  found  ancient  family  tombs  as  he  had  described,  but 
the  receptacles  for  the  dead,  four  tiers  high,  were  empty, 
save  as  a  retreat  for  bats  and  owls.  Still  we  found 
no  documents  concerning  Jesus,  and  Jona's  journey  to 
Tadmor  with  his  two  wives  was,  as  far  as  Jesus  and  the 
Goddess  of  Galilee  were  concerned,  a  complete  failure. 
227 


228  LOOKING  BACK 

Unless  his  many  evenings  spent  with  me,  relating  the 
disjointed  traditional  reminiscences  concerning  Mary 
Magdalene,  satisfies  others  as  it  does  me  of  the  heroic, 
unremitting  zeal  of  woman  when  clouds  of  sorrow  over- 
shadow the  day. 

In  parting  from  my  Bedouin  friends  I  shook  hands 
with  the  three,  and  got  one  more  good  squeeze  from 
Jona's  disobedient  Fatima.  Then,  according  to  Oriental 
custom,  Jona  hugged  and  kissed  me.  Females  of  the 
desert  who  are  not  Mohammedans  are  accustomed  to 
kiss  at  will,  the  same  as  the  men  do.  Jona  was  a  kind- 
hearted,  truthful  old  Arab.  His  wife's  affection  for  me 
was  pure  desire  for  soul  liberty,  like  a  bird  confined  in  a 
cage  while  other  birds  play  in  the  trees. 


MARY  MAGDALENE 

While  the  orb  of  day  is  kissing  a  fond  adieu  to  the 
Syrina  highland  which  overlooks  the  great  city  Tandmor 
with  its  two  million  inhabitants,  two  sojourners  from  the 
far  East,  with  their  usual  escort,  turn  in  beside  the  fast 
flowing  stream  of  hot  water  which  still  gushed  forth  from 
under  the  once  beautiful  city  of  the  desert. 

The  fleet  and  pack  animals  gently  kneel  to  be  relieved 
of  their  burden,  for  even  the  patient  ships  of  the  desert 
become  weary  on  their  long  journeys  over  the  trackless, 
sand  blown  wilds. 

Long  after  the  hum  of  the  city  had  ceased  and  the 
silence  above  had  thrown  its  dark  mantle  over  the  sleep- 
ing face  of  nature,  we  sat  by  the  babbling  brook  discussing 
the  strange  report,  which  for  nearly  two  years  had  been 
heralded  from  the  vine  clad  hills  of  Canaan,  to  the  effect 
that  one  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  a  carpenter,  was  imbued  with 
spiritual  power  to  the  extent  that  he  was  healing  all 
manner  of  diseases,  and  of  late  had  raised  a  damsel 
twelve  years  old  from  the  dead. 

Next  day,  while  crossing  the  Desert  of  Hor,  we  could 
see  Tandmor  when  twenty  miles  away,  and  on  the  iifth 
day  we  reached  Palestine.  The  evening  we  arrived  at 
Capernaum  we  found  the  west  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Gali- 
lee from  the  ford  of  the  Jordan  north  to  the  hot  springs 
of  Tiberias,  south,  as  well  as  the  western  hillside,  liter- 
ally strewn  with  groups  of  wise  men  from  different  parts 
229 


230  LOOKING  BACK 

of  the  world,  together  with  the  high  and  low  of  the 
Hebrew  clan. 

As  Magdala  and  Capernaum  seemed  to  be  the  center 
of  attraction,  we  staked  our  tent  near,  and  soon  learned 
that  Jesus,  the  Wonderful,  was  a  guest  of  one  Simon,  a 
fisherman,  while  his  kindred  were  being  cared  for  by 
relatives  and  friends  of  the  family. 

Scribes  from  the  South  and  far  East  were  comparing 
notes  and  discussing  His  latest  miracle  of  stilling  the 
tempest,  of  which  there  was  an  abundance  of  proof 
that  the  storm,  which  was  raging  on  Galilee,  had  sub- 
sided almost  immediately,  but  as  to  Jesus  having  been  the 
cause,  there  was  a  diversity  of  opinion.  Many  thought 
Jesus  was  mad  or  beside  himself,  while  others  said,  "Has 
not  God,  in  all  ages  past,  at  times,  awakened  the  people 
in  mysterious  v/ay s  ?" 

Others,  among  whom  were  the  scribes  and  Pharisees 
from  Jerusalem,  declared  him  to  be  possessed  with  the 
devil,  through  which  he  healed  the  sick,  fed  the  hungr\' 
and  stilled  the  waves ;  and  still  others  declared  that  his 
teachings  were  exclusively  spiritual,  and  not  material- 
istic. 


DINA  OF  ENDOR 

While  a  group  of  fishermen,  who  occupied  a  large 
black  tent,  were  enlisting  followers  to  the  cause  and  one, 
called  Peter,  was  exhorting  the  throng,  a  woman  of  the 
Hebrew  tongue  was  overheard  talking  to  a  group  of 
strangers,  to  whom  she  said :  ""I  am  from  Endor,  my 
name  is  Dina  and  I  have  been  floating  in  this  great 
religious  wave  for  more  than  a  year ;  and  I  am  truly  con- 
vinced that  God,  through  Jesus,  is  visiting  His  people, 
but  why  does  Jesus  not  avoid  those  strangers  who  are 
noting  down  every  word  He  says,  to  carry  home.  An- 
other thing  seems  strange  to  me,  that  Jesus,  who  is  from 
a  nice  family,  should  tolerate  rascals  who  never  wore 
a  square  inch  of  decency  on  their  hides.  Just  look  at 
Simon,  the  old  fisherman ;  that  broad  shouldered  man 
talking  now,  whom  Jesus  named  Peter,  who  was  and  I 
suppose  is  a  liar  and  a  toper,  whom  no  one  has  ever 
accused  of  dealing  honestly.  Then  there  is  Mary  Mag- 
dalene, who,  with  her  wealthy  Aunt  Susanna,  lives  just 
up  there  on  the  hillside.  Some  say  she  is  a  relative  of 
Jesus,  perhaps  that  is  because  her  hair  is  light,  for  some 
of  the  breed  to  whom  Jesus  belongs  have  auburn  hair. 
But  oh,  isn't  she  a  diamond  in  the  rough?  Why,  that 
maid  is  a  bewitching  beauty,  graceful  as  a  swan,  some- 
times as  soft  as  the  summer  breeze  and  at  other  times 
wilder  than  a  tornado.  She  was  brought  up  with  or  near 
the  family  of  Joseph  of  Nazareth,  came  here  when  about 
a  dozen  years  old  and  took  the  name  of  Magdalene.  I 
231 


232  LOOKING  BACK 

believe,  from  what  I  hear,  that  if  that  girl  faced  the 
Devil  he  would  back  down,  and  yet  she  has  more  true 
admirers,  staunch  friends,  than  any  maid  in  Gahlee, 
In  fact  I,  even  though  I  never  speak  to  her,  like  her  my- 
self ;  but  how  Jesus,  as  the  Son  of  God,  can  bunch  her 
faults  and  forgive  them  in  one  batch,  is  a  puzzle  to  me." 

"Why  is  she  called  a  sinner?"  inquired  a  tall  man 
in  a  red  shirt  which  came  down  to  his  heels. 

"Oh,  Jesus  says  we  are  all  sinners  in  a  certain  sense ; 
I  suppose  he  would  say  she  will  some  day  bridle  her 
tongue,  but  she  never  will.  You  see,  she  has  no  respect 
for  the  customs  and  rites  of  the  Pharisees,  so  I  suppose 
it  was  the  orthodox  who  branded  her  a  sinner,  but  I  have 
heard  that  the  sisters  of  Jesus  like  her,  and  that  of  late 
she  has  come  down  from  her  perch  wonderfully." 

"Do  the  people  actually  believe  the  child  of  Jarius 
was  dead,  or  was  she  possessed  by  demons?"  broke  in  a 
keen-eyed  observer  with  a  quill  over  his  ear. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  people  are  clamoring  for 
miracles.  Magdalene  says  the  resurrection  Jesus  preaches 
does  not  refer  to  the  body.  Everyone  thought  the  child 
was  dead,  but  Jesus  said  she  was  not.  He  talks  so  much 
in  parable  it  is  hard  to  understand  him.  I  have  listened 
to  Jesus  almost  every  day  for  nearly  two  years,  he  all 
the  time  talking  about  death,  and  still  I  and  all  his 
friends  are  confounded  as  to  whether  he  means  death 
of  the  body  or  a  state  of  sin-death,  from  which  condition 
he  can  raise  those  who  are  naturally  dead  in  sin.  I  think 
the  report  of  his  having  raised  that  child  is  what  has 
brought  so  many  here  of  late,  but  if  I  understand  Jesus — 
hush,  do  you  see  that  tent  right  here  beside  us?  Those 
people  just  came  in  at  dark.  James  says  they  are  from 
Tadmor,  a  sect  of  scribes  once  called  Rechabites.     See, 


LOOKING  BACK  233 

they  are  noting  down  every  word  I  say,  so  I'm  glad  I 
haven't  said  much.  Just  see  old  Peter  swing  his  arms 
and  preach ;  from  here,  where  one  cannot  hear  a  word, 
he  would  pass  for  quite  a  respectable  man,  yet  I  heard 
that  when  he  used  to  peddle  fish  all  the  attractive  women 
turned  from  him,  but  he  never  bothered  me,  and  Jesse, 
my  husband,  says  it  is  no  wonder,  but  I  tell  him  if  I 
am  not  pretty  I  know  enough  to  keep  my  mouth  shut. 
Magdalene  sums  up  Peter  the  quaintest;  she  says  she 
always  manages  to  get  on  the  side  of  his  cock  eye  so  he 
cannot  wink  at  her. 

"James  and  John,  the  two  brothers  who  are  with 
Jesus,  are  fine  fellows,  in  fact  I  have  heard  that  John 
wants  to  marry  Magdalene.  James,  the  brother  of  Jesus, 
is  a  man  to  be  admired,  in  fact  all  the  brothers  and  sisters 
of  Jesus  seem  to  take  after  their  mother,  who,  all  the 
folks  say,  is  a  bright  ^reature;  but  the  father,  Joseph — 
well,  he  is  dead,  and  while  I  never  heard  a  word  against 
him,  I  should  say  that  his  lineage  from  David  was  his 
chief  attraction.  Jesus,  they  say,  was  the  real  head  of  the 
family  from  the  time  he  was  a  boy,  but  I  do  not  think 
he  worked  at  the  carpenter  trade  very  much.  At  an  early 
age  he  served  at  the  feet  of  the  noted  scribes  and  priests, 
through  which  he  virtually  became  a  support  of  the 
family,  for,  as  an  instructor,  he  was  unequaled.  Even  at 
the  Sanhedrim  his  opinion  had  weight  until  he  took 
this  religious  turn,  when  his  former  friends  became  his 
enemies." 

"How  could  Jesus  have  tolerated  the  doings  of  those 
he  now  so  bitterly  opposes?"  inquired  a  bystander. 

"Oh,  I  do  not  know,  possibly  he  was  studying  their 
real  character  and  now  he  hits  them  on  their  sore  spots, 
but  it — there — there — comes  Jesus  now,  that  tall  man, 


234  LOOKING  BACK 

come  close  so  you  can  hear  him  and  you  will  believe  every 
word  he  says.  Oh  there,  they  are  sending  us  out  so  they 
can  be  alone — dear  me,  let  us  meet  again  tomorrow  so  T 
can  tell  you  a  little  of  the  news ;  but  as  I  said,  I  am  not 
a  woman  who  says  much  and  seldom  express  my  opinion." 


THE  HOME  OF  MAGDALENE 

"Magdalene,  why  are  you  so  restless,  and  why  gazing 
so  intently  at  the  stormy  sea ;  has  anything  crossed  your 
path,  dear?" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Susanna,  I  was  just  watching  the  tumb- 
ling waves  of  Old  Galilee  and  I  envy  them  the  peace  they 
enjoy,  for  soon  they  will  lie  down  to  sleep,  but  there  is 
no  rest  for  your  poor,  wayward  Magdalene." 

"You  are  not  bad,  Mary,  your  beauty  has  made  you 
gay  and  your  vanity  presses  hard  upon  your  virtue,  but 
you  have  never  stooped.  All  your  require  is  time  and 
patience." 

"Time,  why  I  am  twenty-two  gone  and  I  doubt  if 
twenty-two  million  of  years  would  mellow  me  down  to 
your  soft  nature.  Often  I  try  to  be  mild  and  keep  my 
promise  so  often  made  to  Jesus,  and  first  I  know  I  am 
facing  all  kinds  of  difficulties  with  a  rebuff  and  then  I 
am  too  proud  to  own  up  that  I  am  sorry." 

"Did  you  hear  Jesus  talk  in  the  synagogue  today?" 

"Yes,  I  was  there  this  morning  and  that  is  why  I  am 
so  upset.  You  know  I  was  ever  with  him  and  his  sisters, 
especially  Ruth,  until  I  came  to  you,  but  since  he  began 
to  preach  I  have  avoided  him.  Well,  he  caught  me  this 
morning  and  spoke  so  kindly  that  I  felt  the  old  child-love 
coming  back.  Seeing  so  many  of  my  Nazareth  friends 
and  Jesus  talking  so  strangely  I  began  to  cry  and  might 
have  joined  them  had  not  Simon,  our  old  fish  peddler, 
approached  me  and  began  hinting  at  my  waywardness 
235 


236  LOOKING  BACK 

and  talking  about  miracles.  Then  I  flared  up  and  said. 
'Really,  Peter  (that  is  what  they  call  him  now),  you  do 
not  say  you  have  repented — if  you  have,  and  it  goes  deep 
enough  to  make  you  give  honest  weight  on  fish,  I  should 
say  Jesus  has  performed  a  miracle,  indeed.'  Then  he 
broke  in  by  saying,  'Maggie,'  but  I  checked  him  on  the 
spot  and  said,  'Call  me  Magdalene.  I  am  no  little  girl, 
I  am  a  lady.'  Then  he  kind  of  twisted  his  jaw  as  he  used 
to  when  he  cried,  'Fish — fish,'  and  asked  if  I  was  sure, 
and  I  told  him  he  had  better  keep  on  seeking  shelter 
against  the  day  of  wrath  to  come.  Then  as  Jesus  came 
near  the  anger  seemed  to  leave  me  and  I  could  have 
knelt  and  kissed  his  feet." 

"Whose  feet.  Mary?" 

"Whose  do  you  suppose  ?"  Then  the  proud  girl  bit  her 
lip  in  scorn. 

A  moment  silence,  and  Aunty  continued,  "\Miat  dc 
you  think  of  Jesus?" 

"Why,  really,  I  do  not  know  what  to  think ;  probabb 
I  am  not  as  good  a  judge  as  one  who  has  not  known  him 
for  he  was  always  ready  to  help  Ruth  and  me  out  of  oui 
embarrassing  predicaments,  of  which  there  were  many, 
for  you  know  Ruth  and  I  were  hand  in  hand  in  mischief. 
One  day  she  and  I — say  Aunty,  there  comes  John,  what 
do  you  suppose  he  wants?" 


JOHN  AND  MAGDALENE 

Aunt  Susanna  fluttered  some  at  John's  approach,  for, 
although  a  daily  playmate  with  Magdalene,  he  seldom 
appeared  in  their  garden  now.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
John.  You  used  to  run  in,  when  a  boy,  and  why  do  you 
not  come  oftener  now?" 

John  laughingly  replied,  while  greeting  Magdalene, 
"Since  I  have  become  so  big  that  Lena  cannot  box  me 
around  handy,  I  thought  the  enjoyment  of  my  presence, 
especially  for  her — " 

"Now,  John,"  broke  in  Magdalene,  as  she  solidly 
planked  herself  on  the  couch  beside  him,  "First,  you've 
been  here  more  than  forty  times  since  that  evening,  and 
next,  did  you  not  deserve  a  good  box  on  your  ear  when 
you  tied  the  straw  to  our  dog's  tail?" 

"I  was  just  playing  Sampson." 

"How  did  you  like  my  playing  Sampson,  when  I 
boxed  your  ears?" 

"I  just  enjoyed  it." 

"You  did  not;  if  you  had  you  would  not  remember 
it." 

"I  did." 

"Now,  John,"  said  the  peaceful  aunty,  "you  must 
confine  yourself  to  the  truth ;  you  know  I  have  always 
held  you  up  as  a  model  young  man." 

"John,"  said  Magdalene,  as  she  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

John  turned,  and  looking  her  quizzically  in  the  face, 
2Z1 


238  LOOKING  BACK 

said,  "Do  you  remember.  Lena,  that  the  trouble  that  day 
all  ended  with  you  and  I  eating  bread  and  honey  and  then 
your  going  part  way  home  with  me,  hugging  and  kissing 
me  all  the  way.    Now  do  you  wonder  at  my  enjoyment?" 

She  smilingly  replied,  "What  a  pity  it  is  that  hand- 
some boys  grow  up  to  be  such  ugly  men.  Just  play  you 
are  a  boy  again  and  set  fire  to  the  dog's  tail  once  more. 
I  dare  you  to  do  it." 

"Oh,  Lena,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  the  conversation, 
"do  you  buy  your  fish  of  Simon  yet?" 

Springing  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  sparkling,  she  said, 
"Honestly,  John,  I  would  rather  go  to  hell  with  you  than 
to  heaven  with  old  Simon." 

John  looked  admiringly  at  the  stately  figure  before 
him,  as  he  calmly  said,  "Why,  Lena." 

After  time  for  reflection,  Magdalene  again  seated  her- 
self beside  him,  dropping  her  head  on  his  shoulder  weep- 
ing, and  while  Aunt  Susanna  came  and  kissed  away  the 
tears,  she  with  difficulty  continued,  "If  you  only  knew 
how  I  hated  some  people,  without  cause,  and  loved  others 
who  do  not  love  me,  you  would  pity  me.  Old  Peter  has 
his  virtues  and  I  know  it." 

After  the  storm  had  passed,  Magdalene  laughingly 
inquired,  "Now,  John,  did  you  actually  come  over  to  see 
Aunty,  or  did  you  come  to  see  me?" 

John  declared  it  was  both,  but  the  business  end  of  the 
call  was  bread.  Then  it  was  soon  arranged  that  Aunt 
Susanna  should  furnish  ten  loaves  each  day  as  long  as 
the  followers  of  Jesus  remained  at  the  Lake. 

"His  a  parent  communion  with  God,"  continued  John, 
"has  so  startled  the  world  that  many  are  coming  out  of 
curiosity.     Tomorrow,  being  Sabbath,  he  will  preach  in 


LOOKING  BACK  239 

the   synagogue  and  we  hope  the   spies   from  Jerusalem 
will  not  interfere." 

"Truly,  John,"  inquired  Aunt  Susanna,  "do  you  be- 
lieve in  him?  Magdalene,  answer  the  door  call." 


RUTH 

Aunt  Susanna  and  John  listened  that  they  might 
recognize  the  voice  when  Magdalene  exclaimed,  "Oh, 
Ruth — Ruth,  you  dear  sweet  girl,  why  did  you  keep  me 
waiting  so  long?"  And  Ruth  after  embracing  Magdalene 
ran  and  kissed  Aunt  Susanna  and  then  with  a  low 
:ourtsey  begged  John  to  pardon  her  rudeness,  for  which 
John  complied  and  said,  "I  saw  you  with  your  folks  to- 
day, but  I  did  not  dare  approach  for  you  all  looked  so 
nervous  that  I  feared  a  break-down." 

Ruth  turned  a  distant  glance  as  the  large  tears  trickled 
down  her  cheeks,  when  Magdalene  placed  her  fair  arm 
around  the  waist  of  her  life-long  friend,  softly  saying, 
"Do  not  weep,  Ruth,  everybody  loves  you,"  to  which  the 
sad  girl  replied,  "We  do  all  feel  so  strange ;  no  one 
thought  it  would  ever  come  to  this." 

"Ruth,"  began  Aunt  Susanna,  "anxiety  will  make  you 
all  sick ;  now  be  calm  and  let  me  plan.  You  and  Magda- 
lene must  enter  the  garden  while  it  is  twilight,  and  Mag- 
dalene do  not  fail  to  show  her  the  baby  birds  in  the  lilac 
bushes.  You,  John,  however  much  you  wish,  cannot  go 
with  them,  for  I  have  a  duty  for  you.  \\'hile  I  light  the 
fire  for  hot  cakes  and  honey  you  must  run  down  to 
Capernaum  and  bring  Jesus,  his  mother  and  all  the  family 
up  here  to  dine,  and  stop  with  us  until  morning.  Ruth 
will  sleep  v/ith  Magdalene,  her  mother  with  me  and  Jesus 
on  the  couch.  We  have  heaps  of  rugs  so  others  can  lie 
down  where  they  please.  If  you  like,  John,  you  can  stay 
also,  for  I  know  you  like  to  be  with  Jesus." 
240 


LOOKING  BACK  241 

"Really,  Aunt  Susanna,"  broke  in  Ruth,  "I  have  been 
here  so  much." 

"Now,  Ruth,  not  a  word  from  you.  During  the  time 
Magdalene  has  lived  with  me,  I  do  not  think  you  have 
made  her  what  might  be  called  ten  good  visits,  and 
Magdalene  has  been  to  Nazareth  about  forty  times.  Be- 
sides, everytime  she  comes  home  I  hear  nothing  but  Ruth,' 
Ruth,  so  I  conclude  she  is  at  your  home  most  of  the  time." 

"Aunt  Susanna,"  said  John,  as  he  raised  to  go. 

"John,"  ejaculated  Magdalene  as  she  seized  him  by 
the  arm,  "You're  not  going  until  vou  have  seen  our  gar- 
den ;  it  will  not  hinder  you  three  minutes." 

John  did  not  seem  anxious  to  release  himself  from 
her  grasp,  but  responded,  "I  must  obey  your  Aunty's 
command."  Then  turning  to  Aunty  he  continued,  "Please 
do  not  bake  the  cakes  until  I  return,  for  I  think  they  are 
all  fixed  for  the  night.  Jesus  is  stopping  with  Peter's 
wife's  mother  and — " 

"Peter,"  exclaimed  Magdalene,  as  she  turned  her 
saucy  nose  to  one  side  and  elevated  her  chin. 

"Ruth,"  said  John,  as  arm  in  arm  with  the  two  girls 
they  turned  to  the  garden,  "can  you  abide  Magdalene 
without  obeying  her  commands?" 

Ruth  seeming  to  forget  her  troubles,  laughingly  re- 
plied, "Oh,  I  see  your  predicament,  John,  but  you  know 
the  wise  do  control  the  weak." 

Then  as  Magdalene  let  go  his  arm  and  squared  herself 
saucily  before  him  in  the  attitude  of  wisdom,  she  said, 
"Now,  John,  own  up  that  you  wish  you  had  not  asked 
Ruth  that  question,"  to  which  John  mumbled  something 
about  all  girls  being  alike,  at  which  Magdalene  again 
flared  up  and  accused  him  of  not  being  capable  of  appre- 
ciating select  company,  and  then  they  all  laughed. 


DARKNESS  OVER  GALILEE 

John  has  returned  home ;  Jesus  is  asleep  in  the  home 
of  Simon's  mother-in-law ;  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus, 
and  her  childen,  save  Jesus  and  Ruth,  are  sleeping  under 
their  little  open  tent  shelter  on  the  pebbled  beach.  Every 
lodging  in  Tiberias,  Magdala,  Bethsaida  and  Capernaum 
is  occupied  by  strangers,  while  more  than  ten  thousand 
souls  overcome  by  fatigue  have  tonight  lopped  down  in 
groups  here  and  there  upon  the  shore  of  the  renowned 
inland  lake,  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

The  evening  star  has  disappeared  beyond  the  western 
hills,  while  spangled  Orion  and  the  Pleiades  sisters  seem 
lingering  as  though  to  look  down  in  silent  pity  on  slum- 
bering old  Nazareth,  whose  religious  zealots  have  thrust 
out  in  bitter  scorn  the  man  whose  lamp  of  light  will  shine 
upon  the  mysterious  way  called  Death,  when  other  lights 
have  all  grown  dim. 

It  is  now  after  midnight.  Ruth  and  Magdalene  are 
in  fond  embrace,  while  Aunt  Susanna  on  a  reclining  divan 
amid  a  profusion  of  pretty  rugs  and  bolstering  pillows  is 
plying  questions  to  Ruth  concerning  her  brother,  Jesus. 

"Ruth,  how  long  has  it  been  since  your  brother  began 
to  talk  this  way?" 

"Really,  Aunt,  I  cannot  say.  He  has  practically  been 
the  head  of  our  family  since  before  father  died.  He 
always  seemed  to  know  if  a  sick  person  was  going  to  get 
well,  but,  of  course,  as  Lena  knows,  he  said  and  did  many 
things  that  we  did  not  notice  then,  which  look  strange 
242 


LOOKING  BACK  243 

to  us  now.  I  remember  one  time  when  we  were  small 
we  all  went  over  to  Saffuriyeh  to  spend  the  day  with 
mother's  folks,  and  while  going  over,  he  said  to  us  that 
we  must  all  be  kind  to  grandpa  for  we  would  never 
see  him  again,  and  he  did  die  in  a  few  days." 

"Did  he  ever  call  himself  the  son  of  God?" 

"Oh,  no,  we  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,  but  he 
often  spoke  of  God  as  my  father  instead  of  our  father. 
The  first  time  we  noticed  anything  unusual  was  when  he, 
with  a  lot  of  other  men,  went  to  the  Jordan,  near  Jerusa- 
lem, to  be  baptized  by  a  man  named  John.  When  they 
returned  home,  he  was  preaching  different  from  what 
he  used  to  preach.  Of  course,  as  mother  says,  he  may 
have  had  divine  aid  all  along  and  not  told  us,  nor  even 
understood  it  himself." 

"Did  your  mother  love  him  better  than  she  did  you 
younger  children?" 

"Certainly  she  did.  You  do  not  think  she  would  like 
gusts  of  emotion  like  Lena  and  me  as  well  as  she  did  a 
fatherly  man  like  Jesus.  Why,  Aunt  Susanna,  everyone 
loved  Jesus  until  that  old  bigoted  gang  of  priests  got  after 
him." 

"I  wish  I  was  God,"  broke  in  Magdalene,  "wouldn't 
I  jerk  those  priests  out  of  their  phylactery  garm.ents 
and  put  them  to  grinding  in  the  mill  ?  I  should  say  every- 
one does  love  Jesus,  he  won  my  heart  when  I  was  6  years 
old,  and  I  would  love  him  yet  if  he  would  shake  up  old 
Peter." 

"Why,  Magdalene." 

"Oh,  Aunty,  you  know  I  do  not  mean  just  what  I 
say,  but  let  me  go  on  with  my  story  of  love.  One  after- 
noon when  we  were  all  up  on  the  commons,  they  got 


244  LOOKING  BACK 

up  a  race  between  me  and  Delila,  from  the  spring.  You 
know,  Ruth,  I  was  swift, — awful  swift." 

"And  you  are  fleetly  still,"  chimed  in  Aunt  Susanna. 

"Oh,  yes,  Ruth,  she  refers  to  a  race  about  two  years 
ago  when  someone  brought  in  a  Greek  courier  to  run 
with  me  and  I  showed  him  my  heels  before  a  crowd  of 
over  two  thousand  people.  Now  I  will  begin  back  on 
my  love  story :  One  afternoon  when  we  were  all  up  on 
the  commons,  they  got  up  a  race  between  Delila  and  me. 
She  was  an  inch  taller  and  a  year  older  than  I.  So  well 
do  I  remember  when  we  were  waiting  for  the  signal  and 
I  was  so  confident  of  winning,  but  we  had  not  gone  far 
before  I  discovered  I  had  my  match.  If  we  had  had 
twenty  steps  more  to  run  I  would  have  won,  but  as  it  was 
they  all  cried  Delila — Delila,  when  Jesus  caught  me  up  in 
his  arms  and  said,  'Now,  Mary  (you  know  he  always 
calls  me  Mary),  would  you  not  rather  be  called  the 
sweetest  girl  than  the  faster  runner?'  Then,  after  he 
had  wiped  the  tears  and  gotten  me  to  laughing,  he  said,  'I 
want  you  to  do  something  for  me,  will  you?'  and  I  said, 
'Yes,  you  know  I  will,  what  is  it  ?'  'I  want  you  to  go  over 
to  Delila  and  say,  "When  my  legs  get  as  long  as  yours  I 
will  race  you  again."  '  'I  will  not,'  said  I.  Then  he  turned 
and  looked  the  other  way,  but  I  shook  his  hand  and  said, 
'Do  you  hear  me?  I  say  I  will  not  go  near  the  old  thing.' 
Then  he  turned  and  spoke  as  he  often  spake,  'Why, 
Mary.'  I  stood  a  moment  and  then  dropped  my  elevated 
chin,  let  go  of  his  hand  and  ran  to  Delila  and  told  her 
just  what  he  told  me  to,  and  she  laughingly  said.  'You 
would  have  won  anyhow  if  you  had  not  stumbled  at  the 
start.'  So  we  began  talking  and  both  went  back  to  Jesus, 
who  bought  us  a  piece  of  melon,  and  he  laughed  when  we 


LOOKING  BACK  245 

ate  it  by  one  taking  a  bite  and  then  the  other,  unti  .t  was 
gone." 

"Do  you  know,"  inquired  Ruth,  "that  Dehla  has  mar- 
ried that  rich  man  who  had  been  a  leper  and  they  are 
Hving  in  Bethany,  near  Jerusalem  ?  Jesus  told  me  only  a 
few  days  ago  about  two  sisters  in  Bethany,  Mary  and 
Martha,  who  are  relatives  of  Simon  and  live  near  him 
with  their  brother  Lazarus.  Simon  has  a  beautiful  home, 
where  our  folks,  when  at  Jerusalem,  go  over  and  stay 
nights.  Joseph  of  Aramathaea  and  Nicodemus  are  often 
there,  they  help  Jesus  in  many  ways,  always  giving  him 
money  and  a  place  to  stay.  Jesus  said  he  is  going  back  to 
Jerusalem  again,  but  mother  and  all  of  us  are  trying  to 
persuade  him  not  to  do  so.  If  he  does,  and  we  all  go, 
will  you  both  go  with  us?     Mother  wants  to  know." 

"I  think  we  will,"  replied  Aunt  Susanna,  and  so  they 
talked  on  until  the  golden  dawn  awoke  the  little  songsters, 
who  sang  the  three  to  sleep  on  the  hillside  by  the  sea. 

"Do  you  know,  Lena,"  said  Ruth,  as  they  were  walk- 
ing in  the  twilight,  "that  mother  thinks  I  had  better  not  go 
to  Jerusalem.  She  says  only  she  and  James  will  follow 
Jesus,  for  if  we  all  go  the  rabbis  may  burn  our  home." 

"I  have  feard  that,  Ruth,  for  some  time.  Some  in- 
fluence caused  me  to  think  that  way,  but  I  did  not  mention 
it.  Say,  Ruth,  why  do  people  call  me  a  sinner  and  say  I 
am  possessed  with  devils  ?" 

"Why,  Lena,  they  call  Jesus  the  same.  That  is  an 
epithet  applied  to  all  who  do  not  conform  to  the  orthodox 
faith.  Jesus  says  everybody  is  tempted  by  devils  and 
that  God,  through  Him,  casts  them  out.  You  know  you 
have  never  allied  yourself  to  any  faith." 

"Do  you  think  that  is  necessary,  Ruth  ?" 

"You  can  see,"  she  replied,  hesitatingly,  "that  Jesus 


246  LOOKING  BACK 

approves  of  that  course.  Kneeling  and  kissing  the  feet  is 
considered  an  open  confession.  Have  you  ever  spoken 
to  Jesus  about  it?" 

"Yes,  I  have,  and  he  seemed  to  avoid  me  by  asking  if 
I  loved  those  who  did  not  love  me,  and  you  know  I  can 
never  love  Peter."  The  sad  girl  looked  upon  the  ground 
in  a  brown  study,  and  then  continued :  "Is  that  which 
one  cannot  control  sinful?" 

Ruth  did  not  reply  and  Magdalene  bit  her  lip  nerv- 
ously as  she  murmured,  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  rid  of 
this  temper  of  mine.  So  long  have  I  loved  Jesus,  r.iid  I 
know  he  loves  poor  me  and  wants  to  forgive  my  sins. 
Am  I  one  of  those  whom  he  talked  about  the  other  day? 
Will  he  be  ashamed  of  me  when  he  comes  into  his  king- 
dom ?"  Mary  Magdalene  turned  her  gaze.  Her  soul  was 
wandering  far  away  into  the  future.  She  was  thinking 
of  the  day,  not  so  far  distant,  when  her  earthly  eyes  would 
be  closed  to  those  familiar  Galilean  hills.  The  storm  was 
fast  gathering,  her  poor  heart  was  aching,  but  still  she 
stood  aloof,  trying  to  suppress  the  love  she  should  im- 
part. Ruth  took  in  the  situation  and  placing  her  arm 
around  the  troubled  maid  turned  the  conversation  and 
talked  softly  of  what  might  take  place  tomorrow. 

As  the  morning  sun  gleamed  from  over  the  Syrian 
desert,  touching  the  hilltops,  the  song  birds  in  the  olive 
orchards  and  oak  groves  began  chiming  their  sinless  mel- 
odies, regardless  of  the  throng,  now  stirring  themselves 
and  lighting  fires  here  and  there  in  the  great  camp  around 
the  renowned  Sea  of  Galilee. 

Facing  the  camp  stood  the  quaint  old  temple  of  Caper- 
naum, in  which  Jesus  had  been  teaching  for  several  days. 
Probably  the  sun  never  rose  on  a  more  curious  throng 
than  those  who  lodged  in  open  air,  under  blankets,  and 


LOOKING  BACK  247 

in  tents  along  the  western  shore,  while  Jesus  lingered  in 
and  about  Capernaum.  Healing  the  sick  and  casting  out 
devils  had  been  practiced  by  all  nations  and  tribes  since 
the  advent  of  tradition,  but  when  sojourners  from  Mesop- 
otamia, Syria,  and  Egypt  returned  home  to  announce 
that  a  man  in  Galilee  had  for  two  years  been  preaching 
that  he  as  the  Savior  of  the  world  had  come  from  God 
to  heal  the  sick,  cure  the  deaf  and  blind,  cast  out  devils 
and  raise  the  dead,  wise  men  began  to  gather  in  Galilee 
until  now  an  immense  throng  were  gathered  near  the 
childhood  home  of  Jesus. 

A  group  of  large,  broad,  bullet-headed  men  from 
Nineveh,  who  styled  themselves  the  descendents  of  Jona, 
had  just  arrived.  Their  roomy  camel-hair  knee  breeches 
and  dawn-like  smile  betokened  that  their  object  was  in- 
formation and  not  criticism. 

Pharaoh's  land  was  represented  by  a  small  caravan  of 
Egyptians  attired  in  professional  habits,  who  had  chosen 
quarters  near  a  group  of  Persian  cameleers,  whose  very 
equipment,  both  of  man  and  beast,  seemed  to  blend  in  soft 
Oriental  shades.  The  peculiarity  of  these  two  groups  of 
doctors  was  that  while  listening  attentively  they  ex- 
pressed no  opinion. 

Groups  of  scribes,  Turks,  Persians,  Arabs  and  In- 
dians were  closely  noting  all  events  connected  with  Jesus 
and  his  followers,  but  took  no  part  in  the  discussions  of 
the  Jews,  who  everywhere  nervously  discussed  the  effect 
of  his  teachings. 

The  scribes,  Pharisees  and  priests  who  disdainfully 
ignored  his  claim,  were  worried  that  so  many  of  their 
people  were  following  him,  especially  as  the  edict  had 
gone  forth  that  any  one  who  professed  Jesus  to  be  the 
Christ  should  be  expelled  from  the  synagogue. 


SURPRISE  FOR  THE  PHARISEES 

When  evening  came,  a  rich  Pharisee,  knowing  that 
Jesus  was  having  no  time  to  either  eat  or  sleep,  and  he 
himself  desirous  to  hear  and  see  him,  invited  him  to  his 
spacious  apartments  to  dine,  where  he  had  assembled  his 
friends.  As  Jesus  approached  the  entrance,  Ruth  and 
Magdalene  ran  spat  upon  him,  when  he,  taking  Magda- 
lene by  the  hand,  smiled  and  said,  "Mary."  Then  kissed 
Ruth  and  passed  in  as  Simon's  guest. 

The  recognition  of  Alagdalene  had  been  noticed  by 
Simon  and  a  dark  scowl  knit  his  brow,  as  he  mentally 
connected  her  with  sinful  episodes,  and  thinking  Ruth 
must  be  a  sister  of  Jesus,  he  wondered  how  she  tolerated 
the  fearless  maid  with  whom  she  was  associating. 

Washing  feet  and  fondling  hair  was  a  mark  of  great 
respect,  often  paid  to  illustrious  guests,  but  Simon,  know- 
ing Jesus  to  be  weary  and  hungry,  waived  all  ceremonies, 
as  he  bade  them  sit  for  the  sumptuous  repast. 

After  the  guests  had  entered  and  darkness  had  dis- 
persed the  throng  outside,  Ruth  and  Magdalene  walked 
back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  entrance,  which  was  a  cur- 
tained arch  through  a  high  wall  into  a  canopy-covered, 
miniature  garden,  decked  with  a  profusion  of  soft  rugs 
on  divans  with  lace-embroidered  coverings. 

As  the  interesting  Jewess  walked  back  and  forth,  Ruth 
engaging  her  in  low  tones,  she,  Magdalene,  turned  quickly 
and  contrary  to  all  customs  of  her  race  and  times,  uncere- 
248 


LOOKING  BACK  249 

moniously  tossed  back  the  drapery  and  stood  before  the 
assembly. 

Dead  silence  reigned,  as  the  Pharisees  gazed  upon  the 
bold  intruder.  A  scarf  of  veil-like  appearance  hung  care- 
lessly over  her  head  of  abundant  auburn  hair  rambling 
over  her  shoulders,  while  from  a  neat  dark  habit  which 
enclosed  her  erect  form  protruded  her  shapely  arms  and 
one  extended  foot  protected  by  an  adorned  slipper. 

Jesus  glanced  recognition,  which  encouraged  her,  and 
then  turned  his  eyes  upon  Simon,  which  seemed  to  rivit 
him  to  the  spot,  as  Magdalene  approached  with  angelic 
grace  and  kneeling  before  Jesus  began  weeping  and  kiss- 
ing his  feet. 

Simon's  disdainful  look  blended  into  sympathy  as  he 
gazed  upon  the  famous  beauty,  while  he  hesitated  as 
though  he  would  lay  his  hand  upon  her  head.  Jesus 
bowed  to  his  impulsive  friend,  as  he  called  her  by  the 
name  she  bore  when  a  child,  and  then  turning  to  his 
host,  said,  "Simon,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  unto  thee." 

"Say  on,  Alaster." 

"There  was  a  certain  creditor  who  had  two  debtors, 
the  one  owed  500  pence  and  the  other  50,  and  when  they 
had  nothing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both ;  tell 
me,  therefore,  which  of  them  will  love  him  most?" 

"I  suppose  the  one  whom  he  forgave  most,"  was 
Simon's  answer. 

"Thou  has  rightly  judged,"  and  turning  to  Magdalene, 
he  said,  "Seest  thou  this  woman?  I  entered  into  thine 
house,  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet,  but  she 
hath  washed  my  feet  with  tears.  Thou  gavest  me  no 
kiss,  but  she  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet,  wherefore 
I  say  unto  thee,  her  sins  are  forgiven,"  and  turning  to 
her  he  said,  "Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee." 


250  LOOKING  BACK 

Magdalene  softly  passed  out  through  the  curtain  way 
while  Simon  would  gladly  have  had  her  remain,  and  now 
to  her  the  stars  shone  more  bright  than  ever  before. 
Ruth's  embrace  was  more  dear,  while  her  hatred  for  poor 
penitent  Peter  was  quietly  passing  away. 


COUNCIL  OF  THE  DISCIPLES 

When  they  arrived  at  the  apostle's  tent,  Magdalene, 
in  her  impulsive  manner,  ran  to  Peter,  and  placing  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  for  a  long  time  engaged  him  in  earn- 
est conversation.  No  one  was  more  pleased  than  Peter, 
whom  she  had  scorned  for  years,  and  he  was  glad  to 
forget  all  and  forgive  the  dashing  maid  whom  he  had 
often  designated  as  Tornado  Mag  of  Galilee. 

After  the  evening  meal,  which  the  women  had  pre- 
pared and  practically  provided,  reports  were  received  and 
commented  upon.  Thomas  overheard  a  priest  declare 
that  if  Jesus  had  blasphemed,  he  ought  to  be  put  to  death 
at  once,  while  John  had  learned  that  the  Ninevites  and 
Rechabites  had  declared  that  God  had  come  to  his  own, 
and  many  of  the  like  for  or  against  were  received.  All 
of  this  James,  the  brother  of  Jesus,  received  coolly  and 
assured  them  that  it  would  require  time  for  the  tumult 
and  confusion  to  subside,  during  which  time  all  should 
deport  themselves  in  an  exemplary  manner  and  prepare 
for  the  worst,  "for,"  he  continued,  "in  times  of  old,  God 
often  called  those  He  loves,  to  tread  the  thorny  path,  but 
it  must  be  that  the  afflicions  of  our  momentary  existence 
cannot  be  compared  with  the  joys  of  Eternity.  Jesus, 
you  know,  has  often  told  us,  'My  Kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world,'  and  true  it  is  that  the  real  life  lies  beyond  this 
scene  of  continued  death." 

"James,    James,"    cried    Peter,    "are   we   to    reap   no 
earthly  benefit  from  this  course?" 
251 


252  LOOKING  BACK 

"Truly,  truly,  Peter,  if  we  live  the  spotless  life  which 
Jesus  lives  our  rewards  will  be  great,  but  God's  plan " 

"Can  I  speak  ?"  interrupted  Ruth,  as  she  raised  to  her 
feet. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  was  the  reply,  as  all  turned  to 
listen,  for  the  scene  was  unusual. 

"I  do  not  comprehnd  the  ideas  of  brother  James  as 
I  wish  I  did,  but  if  this  work  is  of  God,  and  His  myste- 
rious plan  is  that  wt  shall  suffer  defeat  in  this,  our  day, 
in  order  that  the  coming  generations  may  rejoice" 

"Hear!  Hear,"  cried  John,  and  the  men  all  chimed 
in  "Hear !  Hear !"  except  Peter,  who  seemed  to  think 
that  a  bird  in  the  hand  was  worth  two  in  the  bush,  as  he 
cried : 

"The  Kingdom  of  Galilee  is  good  enough  for  me ; 
Ruth  may  be  willing  to  suffer  for  the  unborn  and  I  am 
no  more  afraid  of  death  than  she  is,  but  my  motto  has 
always  been,  'Let  everyone  die  for  themselves,'  therefore 
I  think  the  maid  from  Nazareth  is  out  of  order." 

Peter's  self-preservation  speech  rather  upset  the 
maiden's  zeal  and  she  came  back  at  him  thoughtlessly ; 
"You  better  make  peace  with  your  mother-in-law  before 
you  assume  to  thwart  the  plans  .of  the  Almighty,"  to 
which  Peter  winked  his  bad  eye,  but  could  think  of  no 
reply  appropriate  for  the  occasion. 


TURN  OF  THE  TIDE 

Months  have  passed  and  again  we  find  Jesus  at  the 
home  of  Peter's  mother-in-law  in  Capernaum,  Magda- 
lene and  Ruth  are  serving  the  women  who  are  lodging  at 
the  home  of  Aunt  Susanna.  The  homes  of  John,  Philip 
and  Matthew  are  all  overcrowded,  for  the  Lord's  earthly 
career  is  now  at  its  zenith,  but  tomorrow  the  doubtful 
will  return  home,  the  venomous  will  conspire  to  destroy, 
while  the  faithful  will  try  to  induce  Jesus  not  to  go  down 
to  Jerusalem. 

The  next  day  Jesus,  standing  in  the  synagogue,  cried, 
"I  am  the  bread  of  life;  he  that  cometh  to  me  shall  never 
hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  thirst.  I 
came  down  from  Heaven,  not  to  do  mine  own  will,  but 
the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  this  is  the  will  of  Him 
that  sent  me,  that  everyone  which  seeth  the  son,  and  be- 
lieveth on  him,  may  have  everlasting  life." 

Then  the  multitude  murmured  and  said :  "Why  does 
this  man  disdain  signs  and  wonders  and  yet  says  he 
came  down  from  Heaven?  Is  not  this  the  carpenter's 
son?  Is  not  his  mother  called  Mary,  and  his  brethren 
James  and  Joses,  and  Simon  and  Judas,  and  his  sisters, 
are  they  not  all  with  us?" 

Continuing,  Jesus  said :  "No  man  can  come  to  me, 
except  the  Father  who  sent  me,  draw  him ;  not  that  any 
many  hath  seen  the  Father,  save  he  which  is  of  God,  he 
hath  seen  the  Father.  Whosoever  eateth  my  flesh  and 
drinketh  my  blood,  hath  eternal  life.  My  flesh  is  meat, 
253 


254  LOOKING  BACK 

indeed,  and  my  blood  is  drink,  indeed.  Doth  this  ofifend 
you?  It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth ;  the  flesh  profiteth 
nothing.  The  words  that  I  speak  unto  you  are  spirit  and 
are  hfe." 

Then  many  of  his  disciples,  when  they  heard  it,  said : 
"This  is  an  hard  saying;  who  can  hear  it?"  and  from  that 
time  many  went  back  and  walked  no  more  with  him. 


MAGDALENE'S  HEROIC  PLEA 

Evening  lowers  its  dark  mantel  over  the  faithful,  as 
they  gather  at  the  home  of  Aunt  Susanna  again  to  discuss 
and  consider  the  conditions. 

"Where  is  Jesus?"  his  mother  inquired. 

"He  is  walking  on  the  shore,"  replied  John.  "He  re- 
quested to  be  alone." 

Trembling  and  pale,  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  stood 
and  looked  down  upon  the  Galilean  shore  as  she  mur- 
mured, "Oh,  how  peaceful."  Then  closing  her  eyes  she 
continued,  "Oh,  that  this  generation  was  passed."  Then 
Magdalene  assisted  her  to  a  divan  and  was  whispering 
softly  to  her,  when  James  came  and  caressed  her  gray 
locks  as  he  said,  "Mother,  kiss  Magdalene;  she  is  lovely, 
isn't  she?" 

"I,"  responded  Magdalene,  "am  nothing  but  a  briar," 
to  which  James  replied,  "Roses  grow  on  briars." 

Around  and  in  Aunt  Susanna's  home  a  great  crowd 
of  men  and  women  had  assembled  when  Thomas  stood 
up  and  began,  "A  strange  problem  lies  before  us  for 
solution  this  day.  For  more  than  two  years  we  have 
followed  Jesus  and  listened  to  his  teachings.  We  had 
understood  that  God,  through  Jesus,  was  doing  this 
work.  Today  the  aspect  is  changed,  for  he  tells  us  he 
came  forth  from  God  to  do  God's  will.  This  implies  a 
consciousness  of  existence  in  a  place  he  calls  Heaven, 
before  he  came  among  men.  Some  of  his  most  ardent 
admirers  now  believe  he  is  beside  himself.  If  such  is 
255 


256  LOOKING  BACK 

the  case,  we  ought  to  persuade  him  not  to  go  up  to 
Jerusalem  to  the  feast  of  the  Passover." 

"Does  his  sermon  on  the  mount  portray  derangement 
of  the  mind?"  broke  in  Matthew,  as  he  produced  a  bvm- 
dle  of  parchment  and  began  reading:  "A  good  tree 
cannot  bring  forth  evil  fruit,  neither  can  a  corrupt  tree 
bring  forth  good  fruit." 

"That  is  exactly  the  point,"  said  John.  "Either  we 
must  deny  all,  or  admit  his  version  of  the  source  of  his 
power.  If  you  observe  closely  you  will  find  his  intimacy 
with  God  includes  more  than  faith ;  it  corresponds  closely 
to  acquaintance.  Notice  what  he  said  today,  'Not  that 
any  man  hath  seen  the  Father,  save  he  which  is  of  God.' 
Then  knowing  that  we  could  not  understand,  he  followed 
by  saying,  'He  that  believeth  on  me  hath  everlasting  life.' 
The  knowledge  he  possesses  we  cannot  comprehend,  and 
knowing  this  he  simply  requires  faith." 

Judas  Iscariot,  the  burly  disciple  from  Beersheba, 
now  arose  and  after  admitting  his  faith  in  the  Master's 
claim,  began  to  lay  stress  on  the  fact  that  as  so  many 
were  falling  away,  it  might  be  better  for  all  to  abandon 
the  cause  until  such  time  as  Jesus  could  passify  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  by  admiting  their  prescribed 
authority. 

While  Judas  continued,  two  men  were  overheard  con- 
versing in  an  undertone  as  they  looked  in  at  the  audience. 

"Do  you  see  that  young  woman  there  facing  Judas? 
That  is  Mary  Magdalene." 

"Really,  is  that  so !  I  have  heard  so  much  about  her. 
I  wish  I  could  hear  her  speak  or  sing." 

"Do  not  worry,  you  will  hear  her.  See  her  bite  her 
lip !  There  is  a  storm  brewing  in  her  soul,  and  I  pitv 
old  Jude  when  she  gets  the  floor." 


LOOKING  BACK  257 

"Does  she  believe  in  Jesus?" 

"Believe !  I  should  say  she  does ;  she  exhorts  every 
evening.  That  elderly  woman  beside  her  is  Mary,  the 
mother  of  Jesus,  and  the  one  with  her  hand  on  Magda- 
lene's shoulder  is  Ruth,  one  of  his  sisters.  Honestly, 
those  two  maids  have  done  more  thus  far  to  convince  the 
public  than  all  of  his  sleepy  disciples." 

"She  does  not  look  like  the  tornado  of  Galilee." 

"Tornado,  nothing !  Why,  her  folks  lived  near  us 
before  she  came  over  here,  and  I  do  not  believe  she  ever 
told  a  lie  in  her  life,  but  she  has  an  interesting  way  of 
enforcing  her  opinion.  There !  There !  she  has  the  floor 
now !    Listen !" 

"You,  Judas  Iscariot,"  she  began,  "virtually  admit 
that  you  have  faith  in  Jesus  as  to  his  sanity  and  that  he 
is  the  Christ  which  was  to  come  into  the  world,  and  still, 
for  fear  of  apparent  consequences,  you  advise  abandon- 
ment. All  lives  and  careers  undergo  encouraging  and 
discouraging  events,  today  the  world  enfolds  you  in  her 
loving  arms,  tomorrow  the  cruel  cold  shoulder  is  turned, 
and  experience  teaches  that  the  rebuff  sometimes  falls 
on  the  worthy,  for  the  world  often  goes  agog.  Truly, 
the  multitude  is  disappearing,  thousands  will  return  home 
on  account  of  this  'Bread-of-life'  sermon  today,  for  they 
do  not  understand  that  evolution  requires  time ;  that  large 
bodies  move  slowly.  They  may  be  blameless,  but  you — 
you,  Judas  Iscariot — you  who  have  been  with  him 
more  than  two  years,  are  you  yet  befogged,  or  are  you  a 
coward?  Dir  you  today  think  that  Jesus  intended  to  con- 
vey the  idea  that  God  was  a  baker  and  had  sent  a  loaf 
of  bread  down  to  Capernaum,  and  that  he,  Jesus,  was 
the  loaf?  I  know  you  did  not.  I  hope  I  do  not  under- 
stand you.     I  hope  you  are  true.     I  cannot  imagine  a 


258  LOOKING  BACK 

traitor  among  us.  Oh,  how  my  heart  aches.  See  how 
low  the  lights  burn  tonight !    All  seems  so  far  away." 

At  this  juncture  she  scowled  and  looked  downwards 
as  though  collecting  her  thoughts,  and  then  continued : 
"You  know  that  the  priests  at  Jerusalem  dread  Jesus, 
thinking  that  his  teachings,  if  not  impeded,  will  revolu- 
tionize the  religious  world  and  for  this  reason  they  favor 
a  ransom  to  have  him  out  of  the  way.  Inasmuch  as  vou 
are  aware  of  this,  you  can  imagine  my  surprise  when 
today  I  overheard  you  with  the  others  say  to  Jesus,  'De- 
part then  and  go  into  Judaea.'  "  As  she  quoted  his  words 
she  hesitated,  biting  her  lip  nervously,  then  as  though  a 
thought  struck  her,  she  raised  her  head  smilingly  and 
continued,  as  she  turned  from  Judas  to  the 'audience : 

"In  the  upper  corner  of  our  garden  nearby,  one  can 
see  an  old  cactus.  Some  one  sowed  the  seed  from  which 
it  sprang  before  any  one  of  us  was  born.  I  used  to  try 
to  twist  and  break  it  when  I  first  came  here,  for  it  seemed 
to  cast  no  blossoms  and  bear  no  fruit.  Other  plants  and 
shrubs  blossomed,  yielded  their  fruit,  but  the  old  cactus 
seemed  just  to  live  and  that  was  all.  One  day,  as  some 
of  you  know,  Ruth  was  here  and  we  discovered  a  bud  on 
it,  called  the  gardener,  who  decided  it  was  a  century  plant 
which  might  blossom  soon,  but  it  did  not.  Evening  after 
evening  all  the  neighbors  came  to  behold  the  wonderful 
blossom  which  was  expected  to  come  forth  from  the  seed 
sown  nearly  one  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  so  slow 
that  we  became  discouraged,  but  at  last  one  evening,  when 
we  all  stood  around,  the  gardener  applied  warm  water  to 
the  roots  and  in  a  few  moments  the  largest  and  most 
beautiful  blossom  known  to  the  Orient  came  forth,  and 
think  of  it,  dear  friends,  more  than  fifty  years  after  the 
one  who  sowed  the  seed  had  gone  to  his  long  home. 


LOOKING  BACK  259 

"Today  the  seed  of  life  is  being  sown  in  the  hilly 
land  of  Old  Canaan,  the  buds  are  promise,  blossoms  peace 
and  fruit  everlasting  life.  As  through  summer  and  win- 
ter, sunshine  and  rain,  the  old  cactus  came  forth,  so 
through  joy  and  sadness,  bitterness  and  despair,  the  tree 
of  life  may  put  forth.  When  we  think  of  the  thorny 
path  over  which  good  souls  before  us  have  traveled,  we 
ought  to  trust  in  providence,  for  God  is  with  us  and 
knows  it  all. 

"God's  mysterious  guide  oft  leads  us  where  we  would 
not  go,  bvit  never  where  we  cannot  stay.  He  plans  our 
course,  he  knows  it  all  and  some  bright  morn  he  will 
reveal.  Abraham  did  not  know,  when  he  was  called  from 
home  to  spend  his  years  among  these  hills,  that  when 
the  frost  of  time  had  turned  him  pale,  the  angels  would 
appear.  Hagar,  wandering  in  the  wilds  of  Beersheba, 
did  not  think  that  God  knew  all  of  her  troubles,  and  would 
not  let  her  perish  with  her  child.  Moses  did  not  know 
when  he  fled  across  the  desert  wilds  oft  looking  back  in 
fear,  that  his  fair  Zipporah  would  meet  him  at  the  well. 
\Mien  Ruth  looked,  for  the  last  time,  on  the  scenes  of 
her  childhood,  and  turned  from  the  hills  of  Moab,  to 
follow  Naomi  in  the  plain  path  of  duty,  she  did  not  know 
that  God  had  called  her  to  become  the  mother  of  the 
most  illustrious  family  in  the  world.  All  these,  my 
friends,  were  blessings  in  disguise. 

"Neither  does  the  seed  sown  mature  so  quickly.  The 
seed  here  sown  in  Galilee  these  days  may  bear  little  fruit 
in  our  generation,  even  for  hundreds  or  thousands  of 
years,  but  some  sweet  day,  when  the  storms  of  life  are 
over,  and  the  followers  of  our  Lord  join  hands  to  spread 
the  gospel  of  the  "Bread-of-life"  as  we  have  heard  to- 


260  LOOKING  BACK 

day,  like  the  sleepy  cactus,  it  will  blossom  forth  in  all 
lands." 

At  this  point  Jesus  and  James  stepped  in,  unobserved 
by  her,  while  she  continued :  "The  storm  is  upon  us  now. 
I  hear  the  distant  billows  roar.  This  night  to  you  who 
hesitate  may  be  the  turn  of  the  tide  throughout  an  end- 
less Eernity,  so  bare  your  bosoms  to  the  storm  and  look 
only  to  the  beacon  lights,  if  dimly  you  may  discern  them. 

"Earth  life  is  but  a  fleeting  shadow,  soon  past.-  I 
know  my  name  will  never  appear  on  the  records  of  this 
great  struggle,  no  one  will  ever  weep  at  the  tomb  of 
Mary  Magdalene,  but  what  for  aye  the  morrow.  Can 
you  all  meet  me  there? 

"Did  you  who  beheld  Moses  on  the  Mount  of  Trans- 
figuration a  few  days  ago  think  he  had  just  come  from  his 
grave  on  Mount  Nebo,  where  he  had  been  sleeping  fifteen 
hundred  years?  If  you  did,  I  hope  God  will  wink  at  your 
ignorance,  but  you  did  not,  no — no.  The  real  spiritual, 
personal  Moses  did  not  die,  he  has  lived,  he  does  live, 
he  will  live,  and  you  and  I  will  just  begin  to  live  when 
these  poor  eyes  will  cease  to  weep,  when  this  poor  heart 
will  ache  no  more  and  these  soft  hands  are  cold  in  clay. 

"Is  this  struggle  a  sacrifice  or  a  privilege?  Oh, 
friends,  the  day  will  come  when  the  world  will  envy  us 
who  lived  in  these  dark  days,  and  walked  and  talked  and 
sang  with  the  real  Savior  of  the  world,  the  son  of  the  liv- 
ing God." 

The  last  words  seemed  to  thrill  the  throng  with  emo- 
tion, but  the  climax  was  only  reached  when  Magdalene 
fainted  into  the  arms  of  John  and  Ruth,  who  bore  her 
gently  away. 


JESUS  SPEAKS 

A  tumult  now  acrose  as  poor  impetuous  Peter,  for- 
getting that  his  motto  was  each  one  to  die  for  themselves, 
swung  his  brawny  arms  amid  his  tears  and  cried,  "Hear ! 
Hear !  Hear !"  which  was  taken  up  by  the  crowd  assem- 
bled outside,  who  though  they  did  not  catch  her  words, 
were  anxious  to  cheer  for  the  fascinating  maid  of  Galilee. 

When  the  tumult  subsided,  Jesus  stepped  forward, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  brother  James.  His  tall  figure 
was  perceptibly  bowed  with  fatigue  and  meditation,  while 
his  florid  complexion  assimilated  his  face  to  that  of  his 
mother,  whose  refinement  also  appeared  in  her  daugh- 
ter Ruth.  The  Lord  stood  half  a  head  above  his  twelve 
disciples,  save  Thomas,  who  was  very  tall,  contrasting 
absurdly  with  Matthew,  who  was  so  small  and  quaint 
looking  that  Magdalene,  in  her  sunny  days,  designated 
him  as  the  embalmed  puckerberry. 

^Mlen  all  was  quiet,  Jesus,  in  a  low  voice,  said :  "Did 
my  words  in  the  synagogue  ofifend  you?  What,  and  if 
you  see  the  son  of  man  ascend  up  where  he  was  before? 
It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth,  the  flesh  profiteth  nothing. 
As  I  have  said,  the  words  which  I  speak  unto  you  are 
spirit,  they  are  life.  Go  you  up  to  the  feast,  I  go  not  up 
yet  to  the  feast,  for  my  time  is  not  yet  fully  come." 


261 


THE  EXODUS 

The  encouraging  days  of  our  Lord's  career  were  now 
at  an  end.  His  "Bread-of-life"  sermon  was  generally 
misunderstood  and  taken  as  literal,  which  agitated  the 
question  of  his  sanity,  besides  his  remarks  on  the  assem- 
bly concerning  his  ascending  up  to  where  he  was  before 
did  not  help  the  matter.  The  invincible  Magdalene  had 
convinced  two  of  the  twelve  and  a  few  of  the  others  that, 
as  he  had  said  his  words  were  spirit  and  truth,  they  must 
not  be  taken  literally,  but  the  thousands,  which  included 
his  friends  and  relatives,  were  in  doubt.  The  Persian  and 
Egyptian  scholars,  with  the  Assyrian  Knights,  Nobles  and 
Princes,  argued  that  his  moral  lessons  did  not  voice  of 
insanity,  neither  of  deceit,  still  they  were  returning  home 
somewhat  depressed  while  the  Galileans,  including  the 
twelve,  save  Peter  and  John,  were  preparing  to  go  up 
to  Jerusalem  to  the  feast. 

Magdalene,  Aunt  Susanna  and  Mary,  the  mother  of 
Jesus,  with  Peter  and  John,  soon  set  out  with  Jesus  from 
the  Galilean  coast  as  though  they  would  journey  to  Tyre. 
While  ascending  the  hills  west  of  Capernaum,  Jesus, 
turning  for  the  last  time,  looked  down  upon  the  familiar 
scenes  before  him.  It  semed  but  a  moment  since  he, 
with  other  children,  stopped  and  gazed  on  old  Galilee  for 
the  first  time.  Now  along  the  shore  lay  boats  like  the 
one  from  which,  in  days  of  his  great  achievement,  he 
had  taught  the  eager  throng,  which  had  now  disappeared. 
The  sun's  dazzling  rays  bore  down  upon  the  dreamy 
262 


LOOKING  BACK  263 

waters  of  the  little  mountain  inland  sea  upon  whose  shore 
he  would  walk  no  more.  From  Bethsaida,  a  blue  smoke 
curled  languidly  over  the  retreat  of  his  fisherman  follow- 
ers, while  upon  the  hillside  to  the  south  lay  the  garden 
home  of  Aunt  Susanna,  where  the  once  beautiful,  but 
now  pale  Magdalene  had  upon  every  occasion  so  vehem- 
ently defended  him  whom  she  was  now  to  follow  to  his 
earthly  doom. 

The  little  party  traveled  to  the  northwest,  leaving 
Nazareth  on  the  south,  until  noon  of  the  second  day, 
when  Jesus  turned  south  as  though  he  would  go  to  Jeru- 
salem, and,  as  it  were,  secretly  camped  in  the  woods  on 
Mount  Carmel,  in  plain  view  of  the  hills  of  Nazareth, 
where  many  of  his  old  acquaintances  were  now  boasting 
of  the  failure  of  his  mission. 

Magdalene  would  gladly  have  run  over  and  hugged 
and  kissed  Ruth  one  more  good-bye,  but  as  their  route 
to  the  south,  along  the  foot  of  Mount  Carmel,  had  been 
unnoticed,  the  Master's  orders  were  to  proceed  again  in 
the  night  and  crocs  the  Esdraelon  Plain  before  day. 

After  the  evening  meal,  Jesus  read  the  28th  chapter 
of  First  Samuel,  and  as  was  their  custom,  sang  and 
prayed.  Then,  while  the  sun  still  lingered  on  the  hilltop, 
Jesus  pointed  out  the  position  of  the  two  armies,  and 
the  City  of  Endor,  where  Saul  consulted  the  woman  the 
night  before  he  and  his  sons  were  slain ;  then  he  drew 
their  attention  to  the  traditional  homestead  of  Elijah, 
who  lived  nearly  fifteen  hundred  years  before. 

Peter  called  attention  to  the  beautiful  sunset  on  the 
Mount  of  Transfiguration  and  inquired  if  Moses  and 
Elias  would  ever  come  again,  at  which,  while  all  lis- 
tened for  his  reply,  Jesus  turned  and  looked  at  the  moun- 
tain, but  did  not  speak. 


264  LOOKING  BACK 

Before  sunrise  next  morning  the  little  party  had 
passed  Jezreel  and  by  noon  arrived  at  Dothan,  where 
they  decided  to  camp  until  the  following  morning.  Here 
they  viewed  the  traditional  pit  into  which  Joseph  had 
been  cast  the  day  his  brothers  had  sold  him  into  Egypt. 

As  twilight  came  on,  a  party  was  seen  approaching 
from  the  north,  which  proved  to  be  a  band  of  his  follow- 
ers who,  having  become  alarmed,  had  followed  them  with 
the  hope  of  persuading  Jesus  to  return  to  Nazareth. 
Among  them  was  Cleophas  and  his  wife,  Mary,  she  being 
the  sister  of  Joseph,  the  father  of  Jesus,  but  all  argu- 
ments to  induce  Jesus  to  return  were  of  no  avail. 

The  next  morning  at  Jacob's  well  they  found  several 
hundred  who  fell  into  line  and  thus  the  throng  increased 
until  they  crossed  the  Jordan,  where  they  were  met  by 
his  ten  disciples  who,  with  a  host  of  others,  had  come  up 
from  Jerusalem  to  meet  them,  and  now  Jesus  went  be- 
fore them  towards  Jericho. 


WAITING  BY  THE  JORDAN 

When  back  on  the  west  side  of  the  Jordan,  Jesus  with 
the  women  from  GaHlee  and  the  twelve  disciples  turned 
south  for  the  night,  into  the  well  known  palm  grove, 
■while  the  crowd  hastened  to  Jericho  for  bread.  After 
supper  he  with  his  mother  and  Magdalene  strolled  south 
to  the  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  where  he,  while  reclining 
his  head  on  his  mother's  knee  and  Magdalene  smoothing 
his  hair,  fell  asleep. 

John,  who  was  following,  now  stole  in  with  pillows 
and  blankets,  and  soon  Jesus  and  the  two  women  were 
lost  in  dreams  in  the  very  plain  where  the  children  of 
Israel  had  slept  the  first  night  after  crossing  the  Jordan 
into  the  Promised  Land. 

Since  Jesus  had  left  Capernaum  he  had  avoided  the 
curious,  for  well  he  knew  he  was  misunderstood  by  all 
save  mother,  John  and  Magdalene,  to  whom  he  often  con- 
fided, maintaining  that  if  his  death  was  required  to 
awaken  the  world  he  would  drink  the  bitter  cup  and 
leave  the  coming  generation  to  judge  of  his  works, 
whether  they  were  of  man  or  God. 

Accordingly,  to  avoid  the  throng,  the  four  recrossed 
the  Jordan  at  dawn  and  sought  a  sequestered  spot,  where 
trees  sheltered  them  from  the  sun,  when  Jesus  ordered 
that  all  attention  be  directed  to  Magdalene,  who  had 
eaten  scarcely  any  food  since  she  left  home. 

During  the  day  they  continued  to  bring  cool  water 
from  the  spring,  which  allayed  her  fever  so  that  she  felt 
265 


266  LOOKING  BACK 

herself  again,  and  said  in  her  old-time  laughing  way, 
"Better  then  worse,  better  then  worse,  really  if  we  do  not 
return  to  Galilee  soon  I  think  it  will  be  nip  and  tuck 
as  to  who  will  get  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  first," 
at  which  Jesus  replied,  "The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is 
within  you,  Magdalene." 

"Jesus,  can  one  enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  before 
they  die?" 

"One  that  liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die." 

"Jesus,"  she  inquired  earnestly,  "what  is  death?" 

"Did  you  not  hear  my  parable  of  the  rich  man  and 
Lazarus  ?" 

"When  is  the  resurrection?" 

"I  am  the  resurrection." 

"Will  my  body  ever  be  resurrected?" 

"Have  I  not  told  you  that  flesh  profiteth  nothing?" 

Mother  and  John  listened  motionlessly,  while  Mag- 
dalene bit  her  lip  nervously,  trying  to  form  an  inquiry 
which  would  open  the  sealed  door  of  the  tomb. 

"Can  the  dead  communicate  with  the  living?" 

"No,  Mary." 

"From  whence  came  Moses  and  Elias?" 

"From  the  abode  of  the  living." 

Mary  Magdalene's  voice  changed  to  milder  tones  as 
she  sympathetically  continued:  "Oh,  can  you  not  ease 
my  aching  heart  ?  This  burden  is  greater  than  I  can  bear. 
I  do  not  understand  you.  I  volunteered  when  in  Galilee 
to  follow  you,  but  as  we  near  Jerusalem  my  heart  fails 
me.  Is  this  the  expression  of  God's  love  to  me?  You 
say  you  go  but  do  not  die.  How,  then,  will  I  know  that 
you  remember  me  when  you  are  gone?" 

"I  will  come  back  again." 


IN  COUNCIL  AT  JERICHO 

Evening  found  Jesus  comfortably  situated  in  Jericho, 
while  his  near  friends  gathered  in  secret  to  plan  for  the 
morrow.  A  dim  oil  lamp  lit  up  the  stable-like  enclosure, 
where  the  dejected  and  sorrowful  had  assembled.  Peter's 
speech,  as  usual,  was  lengthy  and  to  the  effect  that  as 
Jesus  was  determined  to  face  his  enemies  at  Jerusalem,  it 
would  be  cowardly  to  abandon  him,  but  if  worse  came  to 
worse  and  Jesus  was  seized,  they  might  be  able  to  scatter 
so  that  the  officers  would  not  recognize  them. 

John's  opinion  acted  as  a  glimmer  of  light  on  the 
gloom  when  he  assured  them  that  if  they,  the  disciples, 
were  detained  as  followers,  they  would  simply  be  beaten 
with  stripes  and  driven  from  Jerusalem. 

Diversity  of  opinions  among  the  others  revealed  the 
fact  that  most  of  them  were  on  the  point  of  breaking 
away  as  they  did  in  Galilee,  until  Magdalene  arose  and 
tried  to  greet  them  with  her  old-time  winning  smile. 

When  she  began  speaking  the  flush  came  to  her 
cheeks,  her  voice  became  clear  and  soon  she  stood  erect, 
the  same  Alagdalene  of  old,  with  that  true  feminine  grace 
and  spirit  of  her  sex,  who  flee  at  a  mouse  but  turn  not 
aside  from  a  lion,  the  attention  was  eager. 

"Friends  from  Galilee,  you  believe  in  God,  I  know 
you  do.  You  believe  in  eternal  life  as  set  forth  by  the 
Master,  I  know  you  do.  You  believe  that  soon  we  all 
will  pass  away  from  this  earthly  scene,  and  as  from 
Jericho  this  night  we  can  look  back  to  sad  and  glad  days 
267 


268  LOOKING  BACK 

in  Galilee,  so  some  unknown  day,  from  some  unknown 
place,  under  some  unknown  conditions,  we  shall  look 
back  to  scenes  of  this  life  and  what  will  we  linger  on 
and  love  to  contemplate  most?  Will  it  be  the  beauty  of 
face  and  form  we  wore  ?  No !  Will  it  be  earthly  fame  ? 
No !  Will  it  be  the  days  when  the  soft  summer  breeze 
fanned  our  cheeks  and  flitted  our  souls  away  on  an  un- 
troubled sea  ?  No !  Will  it  be  that  while  others  died,  we 
live  to  good  old  age?  No!  Then  what  will  it  be?  Will 
it  not  be  the  heroic  stand  we  took  for  love,  sympathy 
and  justice  towards  our  earth-born  companions,  when  the 
cruel  hand  of  injustice  stayed  not  from  shame  and 
persecution  ? 

"Dark  and  gloomy  is  this  enclosure,  but  greater  dark- 
ness prevails  outside.  Two  thousand  souls  or  more  line 
the  way  to  Zion.  All  Israel  meet  now  at  Jerusalem,  but 
few,  if  any,  know  that  the  foretold  Redeemer,  in  human 
form,  is  on  his  way  to  the  city  of  David.  Do  you  know 
it?    Do  I  know  it? 

"Could  we  know  it?  Have  we  the  ability  to  compre- 
hend his  claim?  Were  his  mission  for  the  present  in- 
habitants, we  might  better  understand  it,  but  if  it  is  for 
all  time,  and  for  all  the  coming  generations,  how  can  we 
know,  for  what  is  wisdom  to  us  today  may  be  folly  to  the 
people  in  two  thousand  years,  so  let  us  fearlessly  follow 
and  not  falter. 

"I  dread  tomorrow.  I  dread  all  these  coming  days. 
Jerusalem  to  me  is  a  throne  of  wickedness.  Satan 
reigns  there  and  God  permits,  but  Jesus  loves  them  all. 
Do  you  recall  his  word  as  he  stood  on  Olive's  brow, 
'Oh,  Jerusalem — Jerusalem,  which  killest  the  prophets 
and  stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto  thee ;  how  often 
would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together  as  a  hen 


LOOKING  BACK  269 

doth  gather  her  brood  under  her  wing,  but  ye  would 
not.'  Does  not  this  sound  more  Hke  God  than  man, 
lamenting  over  the  unfortunate  condition  of  those  who 
reject  him?  Will  we  reject  him?  Well  I  know  your 
answer,  but  listen — listen,  men  of  Galilee,  this  night 
may  seal  your  doom,  desertion  falls  little  short  of 
rejection. 

"Behold  your  house  is  left  desolate.  What  does  that 
mean?  Does  it  mean  that  our  beautiful  Zion,  the  throne 
of  David,  shall  become  the  home  of  the  Gentiles,  while 
the  Jew  stands  outside  the  gate  and  knocks  as  the  cen- 
turies pass  on  ?  We  do  not  know,  but  one  thing  is  sure  ;  his 
kingdom  is  not  for  this  generation.  It  either  refers  to 
days  gone  by  or  days  to  come  or  possibly  both.  If  this 
is  true  why  not  follow  the  Master  through  darkness  into 
light?  If  this  meek  and  lowly  way,  dark  and  stormy 
as  it  may  appear,  is  the  magnet  of  love  to  win  the  world, 
let  us  follow  that  our  names  may  be  recorded  in  the 
book  of  life  as  the  faithful  few  who,  when  the  night  was 
dark  and  billows  of  fear  and  trouble  ran  mountain  high, 
stood  firm.  Stand  up,  you  men  of  Galilee,  all  who  are 
ready  for  the  fray."  All  responded  quickly  but  Judas 
Iscariot,  who  slowly  raised  to  a  stooping  position. 


ARRIVAL  AT  JERUSALEM 

Nicodemus,  who  had  been  Hstening  to  Magdalene, 
now  ordered  his  servants  to  conduct  her  and  the  Mother 
of  Jesus  to  his  tent,  where  Jesus  had  been  resting  since 
dark.  Here  the  fair  Jewess,  who  had  struggled  so  hard 
to  encourage  the  men,  now  seemed  to  lose  nerve  at  the 
impending  gloom  until  Jesus  took  her  by  the  hand,  when 
she  fell  asleep.  The  following  morning  she  was  con- 
veyed by  the  servants  of  Nicodemus  to  the  half-way  inn, 
and  the  next  day  to  Bethany,  where  she  was  nursed  by 
Mary,  the  sister  of  Martha,  until  the  third  morning,  when 
it  was  being  proclaimed  the  Jesus  was  to  make  his  public 
entry  into  Jerusalem,  according  to  ancient  prophecy. 

Accordingly  the  women  from  Galilee,  with  Mary  and 
Martha,  ascended  the  Mount  of  Olives  from  Bethany, 
crossing  over  the  ridge  to  the  Zion  side,  where  they  oc- 
cupied a  prominent  view  of  the  road  from  Jericho  around 
Olive  and  up  the  steep  incline  to  the  walled  city. 

After  the  public  demonstration  John,  Peter,  Nico- 
demus and  Lazarus  joined  the  w^omen,  when  they  all 
partook  of  refreshments  save  Magdalene,  whose  soul, 
at  times,  seemed  about  to  leave  her  body.  She  did  not 
speak  until  Peter  inquired  if  she  did  not  consider  the 
entry  into  Jerusalem  w^onderful. 

"Wonderful, — no,    it    is    only   adding   fuel   to   the 
flames.     It  is  down  right  foolishness.     Has  not  Jesus 
said  time  and  again,  'My  kingdom  is  not  of  the  world?' 
What  will  Pilate,  the  Roman  governor,  say?" 
270 


LOOKING  BACK  271 

"But,  Magdalene,  this  fulfills  the  prophecy." 

"Oh,  dear  me,  Peter.  To  future  generations  the 
prophecies  may  be  valuable,  but  we  need  no  such  thing 
to  convince  us." 

Nicodemus  then  joined  in  to  assist  Peter,  and  be- 
tween the  two  they  talked  Magdalene  to  sleep.  When 
they  ceased  she  opened  her  eyes  and  laughingly  said, 
"Nicodemus,  I  see  that  Jesus  has  talked  eternal  life 
into  you,  all  right,  and  I  am  glad  for  your  sake,  for  I 
shall  'soon  be  waiting  and  watching  for  those  I  have 
loved  in  this  life  to  anchor  their  barques  in  that  haven 
of  rest  where  darkness  forever  hies  away,  waves  of 
trouble  cease  to  roll ;  where  the  sun  never  sets,  the 
flowers  never  fade  and  the  child-like  glee  of  Mary 
Magdalene  will  depart  no  more." 

After  the  excitement  subsided  Magdalene  became 
stronger,  until,  with  her  Galilean  friends,  she  was  able 
each  morning  to  attend  the  teachings  of  Jesus  in  the 
temple,  where  sharp  and  vehement  criticism  by  the 
priests  and  Pharisees  was  continually  deluged  upon 
him.  They  appeared  determined  to  compel  him, 
through  act  or  word,  to  violate  either  the  Roman  or 
Mosaic  law,  that  he  might  be  accused  of  heresy,  con- 
spiracy or  insurrection.  Their  chief  aim  being  to 
entangle  him  in  a  decision  relating  to  the  violation  of 
the  law  of  Moses,  in  which  case  Pilate  would  turn  him 
over  to  them,  for  trial. 


ADULTERY 

For  several  days  there  seemed  to  have  been  a  lull 
in  the  persecution,  to  which  Martha  ascribed  the 
smoldering  of  a  diabolical  plot,  until  one  morning, 
while  Jesus  was  engaged  in  conversation  with  several 
Rabbinical  doctors,  a  group  entered  the  temple  con- 
sisting of  twelve  Fathers,  attired  in  priestly  garb, 
together  with  a  squatty  old  publican  from  Joppa. 
They  were  followed  by  a  middle-aged  woman,  who 
was  in  charge  of  four  executioners ;  she  at  inter- 
vals falling  on  her  knees  imploring  mercy  and  begging 
that  her  life  be  spared,  while  a  Roman  officer  with  a 
squad  of  six  soldiers  brought  up  the  rear. 

Magdalene,  taking  in  the  situation,  rose  up  quickly 
and  forgetting  her  weakness  while  the  flush  of 
maidenhood  colored  her  cheeks,  without  hesitation 
boldly  approached  the  Roman  officer  and  begged  an 
interview  with  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  which  was 
granted  by  the  Roman,  who  admired  her  grace  and 
courage. 

The  accusers  squatted  on  the  ground  as  the  officer 
directed  Magdalene  and  the  terrified  woman  to  the 
wall,  where  they  could  converse  unmolested,  which 
was  in  strict  accordance  with  Roman  law.  The  pris- 
oner took  much  time  to  explain  the  situation,  for  by 
so  doing  she  was  postponing  the  awful  moment  when 
she  should  be  shoved  headlong  ofif  of  the  rocks,  there 
to  have  her  head  broken  by  the  heavy  stones  from  the 
272 


LOOKING  BACK  273 

hands  of  the  executioners.  Her  story  was  to  the  effect 
that  she  had  been  married  to  the  squatty  old  Simon  of 
Joppa  when  very  young,  and  they  lived  happily  until 
he  had  married  a  younger  wife  and  she  became  their 
servant,  for  which  she  ran  away  and  came  to  Jerusa- 
lem, where  she  served  a  man  for  three  years,  after 
which,  as  her  remarrying  would  be  unlawful,  they 
began  living  as  man  and  wife  and  had  lived  peace- 
fully for  six  years,  until  this  night  she  had  been  taken 
from  bed  to  be  killed  for  what  many  of  her  acquaint- 
ances had  been  practicing  for  years,  a  condition  which 
was  well  known  to  the  authorities. 

Magdalene,  undaunted,  again  approached  the  offi- 
cer for  the  release  of  the  woman  whom,  she  said,  was 
accused  under  an  old  Mosaic  statute  which  had  been  a 
dead  letter  for  many  years ;  besides,  it  was  improbable 
that  Pilate  would  listen  to  the  case  if  brought  before 
him.  The  officer  informed  her  that  he  had  not  the 
power  to  release  the  prisoner.  Besides,  he  had  been  in- 
formed that  she  was  to  be  tried  before  one,  Jesus  from 
Galilee,  who  had  of  late  entered  the  city  amid  pomp 
and  glory  as  King  of  the  Jews. 

Magdalene  staggered  backwards,  bewildered,  and 
glanced  at  Jesus.  He  stooped  and  wrote  in  the  sand 
while  the  Pharisees  drew  near,  saying,  "Master,  this 
woman  was  taken  in  adultery,  in  the  very  act ;  Moses, 
in  the  law,  commanded  that  such  should  be  stoned. 
What   sayest   thou?" 

When  they  continued  asking  he  lifted  himself  up, 
and  casting  a  disdainful  look  at  Simon  of  Joppa  he 
turned  to  the  twelve  accusers,  giving  each  a  scrutin- 
izing gaze  as  though  he  were  reading  the  page  of  their 
life   history. 


274  LOOKING    BACK 

It  was  a  moment  of  agonizing  suspense ;  the  guard 
and  executioners  stood  as  riveted  to  the  spot ;  Magda- 
lene pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  while  the  other 
women  held  their  breath.  The  disciples  craned  their 
necks,  especially  Peter,  who  never  could  hear  very  well 
with  his  mouth  closed,  dropped  his  jaw  that  he  might 
catch  the  first  lisp.  The  accusers  seemed  to  shrivel 
under  the  search  of  his  large  eyes  and  move  backward 
from  the  woman,  who,  on  her  knees  before  the  Lord, 
was  pleading  for  mercy. 

"He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him  first 
cast  a  stone  at  her.''  And  again  he  stooped  and  wrote 
on  the  ground.  When  he  arose  he  saw  none  save  the 
woman,  to  whom  he  said,  "AVhere  are  those,  thine 
accusers?     Hath  no  man  condemned  thee?" 

"No  man.  Lord." 

"Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go,  and  sin  no  more." 

The  effect  of  the  scene  so  elated  the  disciples  that 
for  a  time  they  forgot  their  fear  and  anxiety ;  but 
Magdalene,  ]\Iary  and  Nicodemus  took  a  different 
view.  Mary,  his  mother,  saying,  "Rebuff  does  not  always 
mean  defeat." 

So-  the  day  passed  until  evening,  when  Mary  came 
over  to  invite  the  Galileans  to  an  evening  repast. 
When  supper  was  over  they  turned  to  the  garden  for 
devotion,  after  which  Peter  and  John  escorted  the 
Galilean  women  to  the  house  of  Joseph,  while  Jesus 
and  his  disciples  slept  in  the  house  of  Simeon. 

The  following  day  a  strange  group  approached 
Zion ;  Jesus,  with  his  tall  stooping  form,  so  emaci- 
lated  that  one  could  almost  read  through  his  hand, 
advancing  with  a  far  away  look,  as  though  beyond  the 


LOOKING    BACK  275 

doomed  city  he  beheld  the  anxious  father  awaiting  his 
son's  return.  He  was  followed  by  Mary  and  Martha, 
two  large,  dark  sisters  of  the  Hebrew  type  with  swing- 
ing gait  and  sincere  expression,  who  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  pretty  Magdalene,  whose  startled 
gaze  gave  her  the  appearance  of  a  bird  or  fawn  await- 
ing alarm. 

At  the  brook  Cedron  they  found  the  others  awaiting 
them,  when  they  all  climbed  the  hill,  turning  to  the 
left  to  avoid  the  crowd,  and  passed  around  the  corner, 
entering  Solomon's  temple  area  by  the  south  gate, 
where  they  were  almost  submerged  by  the  throng ; 
for  the  news  had  spread  that  Jesus  had  yesterday  con- 
futed the  learned,  who  had  sent  to  entangle  him,  with- 
out  even   laying   himself  open   to   criticism. 

On  entering  the  treasury,  where  all  expounders 
were  accustomed  to  teach,  they  found  the  front  space 
again  occupied  by  scribes  and  Pharisees,  still  keenly 
anxious  to  gain  notoriety  by  wringing  from  Jesus  a 
sentence  which  might  be  taken  up  by  the  throng  as 
blasphemy,  for  which  they  might  stone  him  to  death 
without  danger  of  punishment  at  the  Roman  Bar. 

As  Jesus  approached  the  rostrum  an  aged  scribe, 
of  the  Arabian  type,  cried  out,  "Wlio  art  thou?" 

Jesus  adroitly  evaded  a  direct  reply  by  asking, 
"What  think  ye  of  Christ;  whose  son  is  he?" 

"David's  son,"  was  the  reply. 

"How,  then,  does  David  in  spirit  call  him  Lord? 
If  David  call  him  Lord,  how  is  he  his  son?"  Silence 
was  the  only  response. 

Jesus  then  turned  to  the  multitude,  and  drawing 
their  attention  to  his  tormentors,   said,   "The   scribes 


276  LOOKING    BACK 

and  Pharisees  sit  in  Moses'  seat.  All  therefore,  they 
bid  you  observe ;  observe  and  do,  but  do  not  after  their 
works,  for  they  say  and  do  not."  Then,  to  his  accusers, 
he  continued,  "Ye  blind  guides  who  strain  at  a  gnat 
and  swallow  a  camel  and  say,  'If  we  had  been  in  the 
days  of  our  fathers  we  would  not  have  partaken  with 
them  in  the  blood  of  the  prophets' ;  whereof  ye  be  wit- 
nesses unto  yourselves  that  ye  are  the  children  of  them 
which  killed  the  prophets.  Ye  serpents,  vipers,  how 
can  you  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?  I  know  from 
whence  I  came,  and  whither  I  go;  ye  are  from  beneath, 
I  am  from  above ;  ye  are  of  this  world,  I  am  not  of 
this  world.  If  you  believe  not  that  I  am  He,  ye  shall 
die  in  your  sins.  If  a  man  keep  my  saying  he  shall 
never  see  death." 

"Now  we  know  that  thou  hast  a  devil,  for  Abraham 
is  dead  and  the  prophets  are  dead  and  you  say,  'If  a 
man  keep  my  saying,  he  shall  never  taste  of  death.' 
Art  thou  greater  than  our  father,  Abraham  and  the 
prophets,  whom  makest  thou  thyself?" 

"I  came  forth  from  the  Father  and  am  come  into  the 
world — again  I  leave  the  world  and  go  to  the  Father. 
Your  father,  Abraham,  rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  and  saw, 
and  was  glad." 

"Thou  art  not  fifty  years  old,  and  hast  thou  seen 
Abraham  ?"  , 

"Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you  before  Abraham  was, 
I  am." 

Jesus  now  discovered  suspicious  characters  with  rocks 
in  their  hands  and  stepped  back  among  the  Galileans  and 
left  the  temple. 

While  the  Pharisees  were  searching  for  him,  he  with 


LOOKING    BACK  277 

the  Galileans  crossed  the  Cedron  and  climbed  nearly  to 
the  summit  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  where  they  assembled 
under  a  wide  spreading  olive  tree,  Jesus  resting  one  arm 
on  a  branch  of  the  tree  as  he  looked  down  on  the  re- 
nowned city  and  wept  as  he  cried,  "Oh,  Jerusalem! 
Jerusalem !" 


MAGDALENE  PLEADING  WITH  JESUS 

While  standing  there,  Magdalene  came,  and  kneeling 
before  Jesus  pleaded  with  him  that  he  go  home  with  her 
to  Galilee,  never  again  to  return  to  Jerusalem.  The  scene 
of  the  frail  creature  pleading  for  the  life  of  Jesus,  to- 
gether with  the  environment  and  condition,  was  so  touch- 
ing that  all  gave  way  to  their  feelings,  even  brawny  old 
Judas  wiped  away  the  bitter  tears  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
soiled  garment,  for  all  had  learned  to  love  Magdalene, 
the  once  haughty  maid  of  the  West  Shore,  who,  as  Peter 
now  expressed  it,  would  far  outshine  all  the  angels  when 
she  got  to  Heaven. 

All  now  began  imploring  Jesus  never  to  return  to  the 
city  again,  to  which  he  made  no  reply,  but  stooping 
quickly  caught  Magdalene  as  she  swooned  into  uncon- 
sciousness. Then  all  stood  in  breathless  suspense,  while 
he  began  stroking  back  the  heavy  locks  of  the  death-like 
creature  as  he  said  in  his  old  familiar  way,  "Mary,"  to 
which  she  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  as  though  coming 
back  from  the  fairy  land  of  spirits.  Then  she  looked 
inquiringly  at  Jesus,  saying,  "Were  you  with  me?"  Re- 
ceiving no  answer,  she  murmured,  "Surely,  I  was  not 
alone."  Jesus  then  taking  his  weary  mother  in  his  arms 
lovingly  smoothed  her  silver  hair  as  he  kissed  away  the 
falling  tears,  but  he  gave  no  encouragement  that  he  would 
return  to  Galilee. 

As  evening  closed  in,  Martha  came  over  to  invite  all 
to  dine,  and  while  she  was  speaking,  Nicodemus  came 
278 


LOOKING    BACK  279 

hurriedly  to  report  that  a  gang  of  ruffians,  armed  with 
stones,  spears  and  other  weapons,  were  on  their  way 
around  to  Bethany,  expecting  to  find  Jesus  at  the  home 
of  the  sisters.  He  advised  that  Jesus  and  his  disciples 
hasten,  in  the  dark,  north  to  Ephraim  and  the  second 
night  turn  east  and  cross  the  Jordan,  where  they  would 
be  safe  from  Caiaphas  and  his  persecutors. 

This  plan  pleased  the  disciples,  especially  Peter,  who 
remarked  that  the  walking  would  be  fine,  even  if  it  did 
rain.  Philip  lent  encouragement  by  adding  that  he  had 
an  acquaintance  on  the  road,  twelve  miles  out,  who  would 
gladly  sup  them  on  fish,  eggs,  and  honey,  as  long  as  they 
wished  to  stay.  Jesus  was  inclined  to  return  to  Jeru- 
salem, but  after  Mother  and  Magdalene  had  conversed 
with  him  in  an  undertone,  he  arose  and  followed  his  dis- 
ciples into  the  darkness,  none  having  tasted  food  since 
morning. 


AT  THE  HOME  OF  MARY  AND  MARTHA 

As  the  women  moved  over  the  hill  they  were  met  by 
one  who  came  to  again  sound  the  alarm  that  the  brigands 
were  nearing  Bethany,  but  on  learning  what  had  taken 
place  and  seeing  the  feeble  condition  of  Magdalene,  he 
with  Martha,  made  a  saddle  of  their  hands  and  with 
Magdalene's  arms,  one  around  the  neck  of  each,  they 
carried  her  down  the  stony  path. 

Later  in  the  evening  Nicodemus,  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thaea  and  other  men  and  women  of  the  faith  came  in  to 
try  to  cheer  the  anxious  and  divert  their  minds  from 
impending  gloom.  The  mother,  weary  and  sad,  sank 
down  on  a  pallet  of  straw.  Mary  and  Martha  interested 
themselves  to  make  all  as  comfortable  as  possible,  while 
Magdalene,  true  to  her  unrelenting  devotion,  sat  in  the 
midst  telling  them  stories  about  her  early  life  with  Jesus, 
and  how  she  loved  the  family  to  which  he  belonged,  be- 
fore he  entered  his  mysterious  mission,  "For,"  said  she, 
with  a  forced  smile,  "you  know  there  are  times  when  a 
woman  cannot  sleep,  but  never  a  time  when  she  cannot 
talk." 

"This,"  said  she,  "is  a  sort  of  watch  night,  for  Jesus, 
my  good  friend  John,  and  the  lesser  lights.  I  somehow 
believe  if  we  keep  awake  and  think  about  them  it  miti- 
gates their  weariness,  even  though  they  do  not  under- 
stand the  source  from  which  relief  comes.  Do  you 
believe  in  such  a  theory  as  that,  Joseph?" 

"Really,  Magdalene,  I  do  not  know  whether  I  do  or 
280 


LOOKING    BACK  281 

not,  but  one  thing  I  do  know,  we  are  all  glad  to  hear 
you  talk  and  receive  your  opinions,  besides  I  have  had 
much  undisputed  evidence  that  there  is  some  sort  of 
communication  between  minds,  or  souls  of  near  affinity, 
and  my  experience  teaches  me  that  this  is  sometimes 
kept  up  after  death.  Now  please  go  on  and  tell  us  some 
more  things  which  we  have  never  heard  about  yourself, 
when  a  child." 


A  NAUGHTY  MAID 

"Well,"  she  began,  ''as  I  have  told  you  before,  Jesus 
always  manifested  an  interest  in  me,  by  mentioning  my 
virtues  and  indulging  me  in  so  many  ways.  However, 
naughty  as  I  was,  he  was  still  my  friend  and  called  me 
Mary.  Many  a  time,  when  I  was  a  little  tot,  I  have 
cried  myself  to  sleep  with  both  arms  around  his  neck. 

"How  well  I  remember  one  evening  when  I  had 
become  so  big  that  he  could  not  fondle  me  any  more,  how 
he  stood  between  me  and  prison,  and  how  severely  he 
admonished  me  when  it  was  all  over.  It  was  while  I  was 
living  in  Nazareth  that  one  dark  night  I  headed  a  group 
of  dare-devil  maids  to  steal  grapes  from  the  garden  of 
old  Benjamin,  the  potter.  Well,  we  got  caught,  and 
when  I  found  that,  not  only  myself,  but  I  had  gotten  all 
the  others  into  a  scrape,  I  run  over  to  Ruth  with  my 
troubles,  as  I  always  did,  and  she  got  Jesus  to  go  right 
down  and  see  old  Ben  and  then  she  listened  behind  the 
screen  and  heard  Jesus  say  something  like  this :  'Ter- 
ror to  the  neighborhood,  Benjamin ;  why,  you  talk  like 
a  wooden  man.  Magdalene  is  not  yet  in  her  teens,  and 
you  ought  not  to  call  it  stealing  for  maids  of  that  age 
to  help  themselves  to  a  little  fruit  when  they  are  hungry.' 
In  that  way  he  hammered  at  the  crusty  old  miser  until 
he  gave  in.  Then,  after  Ruth  had  told  me  all  about  it, 
Jesus  got  us  girls  together  and  oh,  the  picture  he  did 
paint  about  thieves,  which  set  us  all  to  crying  but  me, 
282 


LOOKING    BACK  283 

and  when  I  laughed  he  said  something  about  there  being 
oceans  of  room  for  improvement  in  me  yet. 

"Then,  after  the  girls  had  gone  home,  wondering  at 
their  lucky  escape,  he  and  Ruth  took  me  home,  and  while 
we  stood  in  the  moonlight  by  our  old  gate,  Ruth  told  him. 
all,  how  she  had  overheard  him  convincing  old  Ben  that 
it  was  nothing,  and  had  told  me  all  about  it,  which  made 
me  laugh  when  he  made  it  out  so  awful  to  us. 

"Before  leaving  me,  he,  taking  my  hand  in  his,  with 
his  other  arm  around  Ruth,  talked  to  us  about  being  true, 
and  showed  us  that  the  course  he  had  taken  in  my  behalf 
was  just  the  course  God  was  taking  with  all  those  he 
loved  and  that  God's  power  was  so  great  that  one  was 
alwavs  safe  in  his  keeping,  not  only  in  this  life,  but  even 
in  death,  one  would  come  out  victorious,  if  they  trusted 
in  him. 

"Of  course,  I  cried  half  the  night  and  resolved  never 
to  steal  another  grape,  but  in  a  few  days  I  left  Nazareth 
and  soon  became  the  ever  irritable  night-mare  of  the 
over-solemn  saints  around  Capernaum,  and  then  it  was 
that  Peter  gave  me  the  nickname  of  'Tornado  Mag  of 
Galilee.'  " 

Here  Magdalene  paused  and  listened  with  that  vacant 
gaze  which  betokened  that  while  her  body  was  in  Bethany 
her  soul  had  joined  the  wanderers  in  the  dark.  "I  love 
Jesus,"  she  murmured,  "but,  oh,  my  soul  is  tossing  about 
like  an  empty  shell  on  an  ocean  wave.  Oh,  that  I  could 
see  more  clearly  through  the  misty  veil  of  horror  which 
hangs  like  a  pall  over  the  once  beautiful  city  of  Zion.  I 
love  Jesus,  as  the  son  of  man,  but  I  love  him  more  as  the 
Son  of  God.  j\Iy  womanly  weakness  yearns  for  him  to 
return  to   our  home   in   Galilee,   while   my   inmost   soul 


284  LOOKING    BACK 

joins  the  song  of  the  distant  angels'  choir.  Oh,  God,  Thy 
will  be  done."  Then  stern  old  Joseph  lowered  her  head 
to  a  pillow  in  the  shadows  of  the  mountain,  while  the 
heavenly  host  beamed  down  in  silence  on  the  swooning 
form  of  the  heroic  maid  of  Galilee. 


LAZARUS  RESTORED 

The  following  morning  the  party  returned  to  the  home 
of  the  Galileans,  leaving  Lazarus  very  sick. 

A  few  days  later  news  was  received  from  Jericho 
that  Jesus  and  his  disciples  were  on  the  way  to  Jerusalem. 
Then  when  Martha  went  out  to  meet  Jesus  the  myste- 
rious dialogue  took  place  concerning  the  death  of  Lazarus 
which  caused  great  commotion,  for  all  thought  Lazarus 
dead,  even  though  Jesus  had  said,  "This  sickness  is  not 
unto  death — Lazarus  sleepeth." 

Now  many  believed  on  Jesus,  causing  the  high  priest 
and  Pharisees  to  say:  "If  we  let  him  alone  all  will 
believe  in  him."  Then  they  took  counsel  to  put  him  to 
death,  and  sent  officers  to  Bethany  to  bring  Jesus  to 
Jerusalem. 

In  the  meantime  the  Galileans  arrived  in  Bethany  and 
Jesus,  after  kissing  his  mother,  took  Magdalene  by  the 
hand,  but  neither  spoke. 

As  the  tumult  arose  and  the  mob  outside  began  to 
howl,  Magdalene  became  hysterical,  but  when  Jesus,  still 
holding  her  almost  transparent  hand,  gave  it  a  shake,  as 
he  said,  "Mary,"  she  looked  confidingly  in  his  face  and 
smiled. 

Martha,  now  standing  with  John  and  Peter,  beckoned 

Magdalene  to  come  to  them,  when  Jesus  stepped  forward 

and  raised  his  hand.    As  he  did  so  a  stifled  hush  invaded 

the  throng  while  the  officers  sent  by  Caiaphas  to  take 

285 


286  LOOKING    BACK 

him  fell  backwards,  lowering  their  weapons,  each  stoop- 
ing to  listen  and  catch  his  words. 

When  his  voice  broke  the  dead  silence,  no  relief 
came,  for  even  unbelievers  feared  they  were  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God. 

"I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life ;  he  that  believeth 
in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  again ;  and 
whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die 
Believeth  thou  this?" 

After  these  words  Jesus  came  forward  as  to  giv^ 
himself  up,  and  no  man  laid  hands  on  him,  but  the  mob 
returned  to  the  chief  priests,  saying,  "No  man  ever  spake 
like  this  man,"  which  brought  his  adversaries  to  a  stand- 
still, not  knowing  what  step  to  take  next. 


CONSPIRACY  TO  MURDER  JESUS 

The  next  day  Jesus  and  his  followers  again  entered 
the  temple,  and  after  the  noon  hour  retired  across  the 
brook  up  in  to  the  renowned  Olive  Orchard,  which  over- 
looks Jerusalem.  Among  the  throng  which  followed 
them  was  Caiaphas,  who  the  previous  day  had  convened 
the  chief  rulers  into  his  palace,  when  he  advocated  decoy- 
ing Jesus  from  his  friends  and  murdering  him,  w^hich 
was  opposed  by  the  more  conservative,  who  said  it  would 
cause  an  uproar  among  the  people. 

Again  in  the  evening  Caiaphas  assembled  his  co-con- 
spirators and,  after  setting  forth  what  Jesus  had  said  on 
the  mountain  and  how  the  people  were  all  turning  to  him, 
said,  "Some  means  must  be  devised  to  destroy  this  man, 
as  I  fear  if  the  case  comes  before  Pilate  he  will  require 
more  evidence  than  is  at  hand,  before  he  will  consent 
to  his  death." 

Nicodemus,  still  a  member  of  good  standing  among 
them,  arose  and  asked,  "Does  our  law  judge  any  man 
before  it  hear  him  and  know  what  he  doeth?"  which 
created  so  strong  an  opposition  that  it  broke  up  the  coun- 
cil and  Caiaphas  ordered  each  man  to  his  own  home. 

Caiaphas,  nervous  and  weary  from  the  perplexity  of 
the  day,  reclines  on  an  elaborate  divan  in  an  alcove  off 
from  his  spacious  court,  where  the  Sanhedrim  of  seventy 
elders  were  wont  to  convene  and  discuss  important  mat- 
ters. As  he  sips  wine  to  drown  his  troubles,  trouble 
seems  to  arise,  when  he  is  startled  from  his  phlegmatic 
287 


288  LOOKING    BACK 

vision  by  an  intruder  in  the  form  of  a  huge  Hzzard,  creep- 
ing over  a  cactus  urn.  Then  the  great  high  priest  mur- 
mured, "I  wonder  if  there  is  a  God,  as  that  which  I  daily 
proclaim ;  if  I  knew  there  were  not  it  might  eliminate  this 
fear  of  the  devil." 

As  he  thus  soliloquized  at  the  dead  of  night,  a  trusted 
servant  intrudes  upon,  his  forced  quietude,  by  announcing 
that  the  gatekeeper  informs  him  that  one  of  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  at  the  gate,  craving  audience  with 
the  high  priest  personally. 

Caiaphas,  frowning,  orders  the  servant  to  bring  his 
message,  "but  first,"  says  he,  "send  two  officers  of  the 
court  to  detain  him." 

Servant  returns :  "He  must  commune  with  the  high 
priest  personally." 

Caiaphas  hesitates,  then  to  the  servant  growls  :  "Sum- 
mon my  guard."  To  the  guard  he  says,  "Search  him 
that  he  bears  no  arms  and  bring  him  to  my  inner  court 
chamber." 

The  arch  conspirators  now  meet.  Caiaphas  thin  and 
pale,  with  his  three  score  years  and  ten  all  past,  while 
the  broad  burly  frame  of  Judas  Iscariot  indicated  not 
more  than  forty  years. 

"Art  thou  a  Galilean?" 

"I  am  not." 

"Are  not  the  disciples  of  Jesus  Galileans?" 

"All  but  me.    I  am  an  Edomite." 

"What?    Edom  at  the  south ?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  join  the  Galilean  band  as  a  spy?" 

"No." 

"Then  why  comest  thou  hither?" 


LOOKING    BACK  289 

"'It  hath  been  rumored  that  you  would  have  Jesus 
delivered  and  that  none  volunteer." 

"Can  you  deliver  him?" 

"I  can." 

"Alive  or  dead?" 

"Dead?    Why  dead?" 

"Alive  then.    How  can  it  be  done?" 

"One  hundred  pieces  of  silver,  one  hundred  brigands 
and  ten  officers  from  your  court,  but  it  must  be  done  in 
the  dark." 

"You  are  shrewd.     Retire  and  await  my  summons." 

Caiaphas  immediately  summons  his  kin  to  the  San- 
nedrim;  wealthy  priests,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  among 
them,  tottering  under  the  weight  of  years,  came  Annas, 
his  father-in-law,  who  inquired,  "Sanhedrim  at  dead 
of  night?" 

"Exactly  so,  august  father,"  and  bowing  low,  the  con- 
spirator whispered,  "this  is  an  important,  private  affair 
to  which  Joseph,  Nicodemus  and  like  traitors  must  not 
be  admitted.     See?" 

Stealthily,  one  by  one,  the  rulers  arrive  and  while  the 
watchmen  on  the  tower  and  outside  the  gates  of  Jeru- 
salem cry,  "All  is  well,"  the  most  loathsome,  dogmatic 
group  known  in  the  annals  of  history  draw  near  in  the 
dim  light  of  a  lantern  to  listen  to  Caiaphas,  who,  after 
glancing  nervously  about,  said  : 

"The  Lord,  God  of  Israel,  who  gave  to  the  seed  of 
Abraham,  Canaan  for  their  inheritance,  also,  through  one 
Moses,- gave  them  laws  with  priests  and  Scribes  to  exe- 
cute over  the  unsanctified.  The  mouth  of  our  high  priest 
is  the  chosen  oracle  through  which  God  speaks  to  his 
chosen  people.  Through  slavery  in  Egypt,  insurrection 
among  the  ten  tribes  and  captivity  in  Babylon,  we  have 


290  LOOKING    BACK 

suffered  under  the  promise  of  God  that  through  the 
prophet  he  would  send  a  redeemer  that  should  bring  the 
world  to  our  feet  for  mercy.  As  you  know,  some  three 
years  since,  one  Jesus  of  Nazareth  began  preaching  and 
assuming  himself  to  be  that  redeemer.  At  first  we  gave 
him  credence  that  he  would  restore  Israel  from  the 
Roman  yoke,  but  soon  discovered  that  he  criticised  the 
priests  as  well  as  the  heathens,  claiming  for  himself  direct 
communication  with  our  God.  His  fame  went  abroad 
and  the  world  assembled  in  Galilee  to  hear  him.  Now 
he  comes  to  Zion,  in  the  city  of  David,  and  what  will  we 
do?  for  this  man  doeth  miracles!  If  we  let  him  alone 
the  Romans  will  come  and  take  away  our  place  and 
nation." 

"The  assassin's  blade  often  executes  the  will  of  God," 
ejaculated  the  venerable  Annas. 

"True!  True!"  continued  Caiaphas  in  an  undertone, 
as  the  conspirators  drew  themselves  nearer.  "But  should 
it  be  known,  priesthood  would  suffer  the  condemnation 
of  the  world,  for  all  the  common  people,  both  Jews  and 
Gentiles,  believe  him  to  be  the  Christ,  an  error  which 
we  must  correct  at  once  or  our  power  will  wane.  I  have 
a  scheme  which  if  carefully  executed  will  exclude  us, 
God's  chosen,  from  all  blame. 

"You  know  Pilate  refuses  to  interfere  with  our  dog- 
matic religious  troubles,  but  if  we  clamor  before  him  he 
will  favor  the  voice  of  the  people.  For  several  days  I 
have  been  unable  to  detain  the  intruder,  either  with  officer 
or  mob  violence,  but  at  last  I  have,  through  patience  and 
perseverance,  sought  out  an  agent,  even  Judas  Iscariot, 
his  most  confidential  disciple,  who  is  now  in  waiting  at 
the  gate,  to  lead  a  band  of  our  most  vicious  brigands 
to  bring  him  before  me,   when  through  previously   in- 


LOOKING    BACK  291 

structed  witnesses  I  will  condemn  him  and  turn  him 
over  to  Pilate.  Now  listen, — my  scheme  is  that  the 
same  assassins,  led  by  Judas  Iscariot,  will  crowd  every 
available  space  of  standing  room  in  Pilate's  court,  and 
clamor  for  his  conviction.  These  assassins  Pilate  will 
suppose  to  be  the  common  people  and  of  course  will 
yield  to  their  demand  and  permit  his  execution,  while 
we,  his  countrymen,  will  shed  a  tear  that  the  Romans 
have  crucified  a  Jew." 

"Our  captains  to-morrow  will  summon  the  squad  of 
ruffians,  who  will  exact  one  piece  of  silver  each,  except 
Judas,  who  is  wrangling  for  100  pieces,  but  will  accept 
much  less." 

"The  plan  I  would  suggest  is  that  to-morrow  evening 
our  gate-keepers  be  instructed  to  retain  the  squad  inside 
the  city  walls  until  our  common  people  are  asleep,  then 
when  the  Galileans  are  crossing  the  Cedron,  fall  upon 
them  and  bring  him  in  for  examination,  and  I,  after  a 
mock  trial,  will  turn  him  over  to  Pilate." 


THE  MOB  FALL  UPON  JESUS 

The  following  evening  Joseph  and  Nicodemus,  to- 
gether with  the  Galileans  and  Bethany  friends,  having 
become  anxious  that  Jesus  and  his  disciples  remained  so 
late  in  the  city,  began  a  search.  Finding  all  the  gates 
closed  for  the  night,  they  stopped  before  the  gate  beauti- 
ful and  clamoured  for  admittance,  but  received  no 
response. 

Nicodemus,  realizing  the  move  as  unusual,  becomes 
alarmed  and  communed  in  low  tones  with  the  group 
thus :  *T  fear  Caiaphas  has  assembled  his  family  at  the 
Sanhedrim  and  condemned  Jesus  and  his  disciples  and 
put  them  all  to  death,  for,  the  second  time  he  assembled 
us,  concerning  Jesus,  he  advocated  such  a  course.  Let 
us  now  go  to  the  Damascus  gate  on  the  north  and  if 
we  are  not  admitted  I  know  a  watchman  who  has  the 
key  to  the  quarry  dungeon,  from  which  I  can  gain 
entrance  through  a  secret  chamber  to  the  abandoned 
court  of  Bell,  near  to  the  home  of  Annas." 

"What  quarry  dungeon?"  inquired  Magdalene,  as  she 
faced  him,  opening  wide  her  large  eyes  in  wonder. 

"There  is  such  a  place,"  he  replied.  "Jerusalem  is 
honeycombed  by  high,  dark,  shapeless  vaults,  from  which 
Solomon  quarried  his  foundation.  It  is  beneath  the  city 
and  the  public  have  not  been  permitted  to  enter  there  for 
many  years." 

During  these  moments,  Jesus  and  his  disciples  had 
passed  out  of  the  South  Gate  and  were  now  in  the 
292 


LOOKING    BACK  293 

Garden  of  Gethsamane.  The  Galileans,  at  the  Damascus 
gate,  did  not  know  this  until  Lazarus  came  running  to 
say  that  Jesus  was  in  the  garden  below.  Just  at  this 
instant  they  heard  loud  voices  inside  and  while  they 
listened  the  gate  swung  open  and  a  mob  of  nearly  one 
hundred  men,  armed  with  rusty  swords,  clubs  and  rocks, 
led  by  Judas  Iscariot,  came  rushing  out. 

Immediately  Magdalene  sprang  into  the  way  before 
them  and  cried,  "Oh,  Judas,  traitor— traitor, — stand — 
turn  back,"  at  which  they  all  stopped,  Judas  trembling 
and  casting  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  "Now,"  she  cried, 
"that  Rome  has  disdained  to  interfere,  you — you  traitor, 
with  a  band  of  hired  bloodthirsty  assassins" 

At  this  moment  one  from  the  rear  threw  a  heavy 
bludgeon,  striking  her  full  in  the  face  and  as  she  fell 
the  band  surged  forward,  stumbling  over  her  form,  but 
she  did  not  faint,  and  rising  quickly  tried  to  follow,  but 
was  restrained  by  those  around  her,  who  began  wiping 
the  blood  from  her  face. 

Thinking  their  object  was  to  assassinate  Jesus,  the 
Galileans  ran  into  the  garden,  where  they  found  Jesus 
endeavoring  to  arouse  his  sleepy  disciples,  who  became 
frightened  when  they  saw  the  assassins  and  fell  back, 
all  except  poor  old  Peter,  who  bristled  for  the  affray. 

As  Peter  rushed  forward  a  servant  of  Caiaphas  dealt 
him  a  heavy  blow  with  his  dull  sword,  which  Peter  re- 
turned, nearly  severing  his  ear,  but  at  the  command  of 
Jesus,  all  the  assassins  fell  back  except  Judas,  who  at- 
tempted to  kiss  him.  Jesus .  staid  him,  saying,  "Judas, 
betrayest  thou  the  son  of  man  with  a  kiss?"  Then  to 
the  mob  he  continued,  "When  I  was  daily  in  the  temple 
you  stretched  forth  no  hand  against  me,  but  this  is  your 
hour,  in  the  cover  of  darkness." 


294  LOOKING    BACK 

The  assassins  then  bound  the  hands  of  Jesus  in  front 
and  pinioned  his  elbows  at  the  back  in  such  a  way  as 
to  cause  great  pain,  after  which  two  stalwart  ruffians 
seized  him  by  either  arm  and  hastened  him  forward,  amid 
the  jeers  and  yells  of  the  entire  band,  except  Judas,  who, 
witnessing  the  cruelty  and  pitiful  state  of  Magdalene, 
turned  away  and  wept  convulsively,  and  then  with  Peter 
followed  the  assassins  to  Annas.  Judas  entered  the  hall, 
but  Peter,  when  accused  of  being  a  disciple  of  Jesus, 
denied  it  and  disappeared  into  the  darkness. 


MAGDALENE  BEFORE  CAIAPHAS 

While  Jesus,  still  bound,  was  held  in  the  dim  hall  of 
the  court  of  Annas,  the  priests,  elders  and  captains  of 
the  mob,  blindfolded  him,  then  spit  upon  and  beat  him, 
which  so  grieved  Magdalene  that  Judas  persuaded  Nico- 
demus  to  take  Magdalene  before  Caiaphas,  where  the 
Sanhedrim   was    stealthily    convening. 

Kneeling  before  the  astounded  assembly,  Magdalene 
craved  an  audience,  which  was  reluctantly  granted  by 
Caiaphas,  saying  as  he  did  so,  that  his  act  was  through 
courtesy  for  Nicodemus. 

Nicodemus  now  retired  to  his  accustomed  seat  in  the 
Sanhedrim,  leaving  Magdalene,  deathly  pale,  standing 
alone,  when  she  cautiously  meandered  forward.  Then, 
as  though  inspired,  quickly  tossing  her  head  erect,  said 
in  a  firm  tone : 

"Learned  men  of  Judea,  angry  are  the  elements  and 
fierce  the  gale,  now  hovering  over  old  Jerusalem,  but 
dark  as  the  night  and  wild  as  the  storm,  it  is  sunshine 
and  peace  compared  with  the  gloom  and  terror  now 
raging  in  my  poor  soul.  I  stand  before  your  august  body 
making  my  last  plea  for  suffering  innocence.  Not  only 
for  the  guiltless  Jesus,  but  for  fair  Canaan's  sons  and 
daughters,,  who  are  this  night  slumbering,  all  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that  in  the  City  of  David,  blind  bigotry  has 
marshalled  its  unscrupulous  forces  against  the  welfare 
of  humanity,  all  unconscious,  that  in  secret  session,  sur- 
rounded by  fanatical  apirants,  this  Sanhedrim  has  con- 
295 


296  LOOKING    BACK 

vened  to  consider  an  act  which,  if  accompHshed,  will 
defame  for  ages  the  name  of  our  people,  the  Jews. 

"Judas  Iscariot  now  confesses  to  me  that  he  bar- 
gained with  the  priests  and  elders  for  silver  to  pilot  their 
hirelings  to  the  arrest  of  Jesus,  in  the  dark,  and  bring 
him  before  Annas,  which  he  did.  Now  he  has  repented, 
returned  the  silver  and  is  about  to  destroy  himself. 

"Why  all  this  haste,  what  has  Jesus  said,  what  has 
he  done,  that  he  should  be  apprehended  in  the  night  and 
destroyed  before  the  people  can  gather?" 

"Has  he  not  criticized  the  law  of  God,  through 
Moses?"  inquired  Caiaphas. 

"Never!  Never!"  she  said,  as  she  faced  the  high 
priest.  "He  has  eulogized  Abraham,  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  but  the  law,  'An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth,'  what  is  it? 

"Abraham,  face  to  face  with  the  angels,  Moses  at  the 
burning  bush,  the  pillar  of  fire,  the  quails  and  the  manna 
were  all  involved  in  mystery,  but  the  law,  the  law,  *Ye 
shall  be  a  peculiar  treasure  to  me  above  all  people,  ye 
shall  be  unto  me  a  kingdom  of  priests,'  that  wa&  con- 
summated in  the  foothills  of  Mount  Sinai,  at  the  home 
of  Jethro,  the  priest  of  Midian,  after  Moses  had  virtually 
been  dethroned  and  doomed  to  a  hermit's  cave  on  Mount 
Pisgah,  there  to  die  alone. 

"From  the  dawn  of  human  observation,  deep  medi- 
tators have  faintly  observed  that  which  appears  to  be. 
the  hand  of  providence.  The  islanders  of  the  South 
Seas  see  God  in  the  soft  silent  moon.  The  Greek  high- 
land philosophers  see  God  in  the  groups  of  the  heavenly 
hosts.  The  friends  of  Job  observe  God  "in  the  awaken- 
ing of  the  dawn,  while  our  people,  the  Hebrews,  picture 


LOOKING    BACK  297 

God  in  human,  form.  Thus  all  mankind,  each  in  their 
own  way,  bow  to  the  strange  unknown,  whom  Jesus 
terms  a  spirit. 

"Oh,  priests  of  Israel,  oh,  fathers  of  this  strange 
session,  listen  to  my  child-like  plea.  Beautiful,  inspiring 
to  the  human  soul,  is  nature's  sweet  repose ;  beautiful  are 
the  noiseless  flowers  strewn  in  the  dells;  beautiful  are 
the  silent,  heavenly  hosts,  if  wandering  or  at  rest,  in 
starlight's  strange  unknown,  but  far  more  beautiful  than 
nature's  wondrous  realm  is  a  community  of  human  souls 
traveling  on  life's  unknown  journey,  encouraged  and 
advised  by  a  fatherly  priest,  pastor  or  shepard,  who  goes 
before  and  warns  them  not  to  stray  or  venture  on  the 
wilds.  Contrast  such  a  scene  of  love  and  sympathy  with 
selfish  codes  and  frivolous  laws,  of  which  violation  is 
punishable  by  death. 

"Act,  act,  men,  save  him,  oh,  save  him.  Will  you 
not  aid  the  birth  of  universal  grace  to  all  mankind?  Oh, 
brave  men,  come  to  my  aid  in  this  dark  earthly  night,  and 
when  you,  so  soon,  shall  awake  in  eternity's  glad  morn- 
ing, Mary  Magdalene  will  be  among  those  to  welcome 
you  home. 

"Oh,  men  of  Abraham's  clan,  come  to  my  aid.  Come 
now  in  this  wild  storm  of  fate,  bear  me  in  your  arms 
that  when  your  strength,  like  mine,  shall  fail,  when  the 
sun  of  life  grows  dim  and  the  stars  of  love  hie  away,  that 
then,  oh,  then,  the  angels  of  light  may  draw  near  and 
guide  you  safely  home.  Embrace  this  opportunity  to 
record  your  name  where  angels  scan  the  page. 

"Look,  men  of  Judea,  look  before  you  leap.  Midnight 
hours  like  these  you  may  endure,  but,  oh,  the  morning; 
oh,  the  judgment  morning,  when  this  strange  dream  of 


298  LOOKING    BACK 

life  is.  o'er.  I  plead  not  to  you  for  mercy,  justice  is  my 
plea  and  justice  is. the  limit  of  your  jurisdiction.  ]My 
plea  for  the  accused  is  not  alone  for  him,  this  awful 
night  will  plead  for  him  whom  God  has  sent.  But  listen, 
oh,  listen,  when  present  scenes  have  become  records  of 
the  past,  when  the  names  and  works  of  mighty  monarchs 
have  grown  dim,  yes,  faded  and  forgotten,  this  strange 
midnight  drama  will  stand  out  as  though  written  by  Job's 
pen  of  iron  in  the  Rock  of  Ages,  to  plead  for  him  who 
knows  no  guile. 

"Oh,  men  of  destiny,  opportunities  still  await,  but  the 
past  has  no  recall.  God  will  forgive,  Jesus  will  forgive, 
but  you  can  never  forgive  yourselves.  Hell  hath  no  flame 
to  consume  the  remorse  of  a  guilty  conscience.  You  may 
deceive  the  Jews,  you  may  deceive  the  Gentiles,  but  you 
will  not  deceive  God." 

After  Magdalene,  between  two  burly  soldiers,  had 
been  tenderly  escorted  from  the  court,  silence  seemed  to 
reign  while  the  lights  burned  low,  until  Nicodemus  arose, 
when  Caiaphas  cried,  "Await  your  proper  time." 

Then  rising  to  his  full  height,  he  exclaimed,  "Is  there 
another  Galilean  sympathizer  among  us?  If  so,  with 
Nicodemus,  let  him  rise."  At  which  all  arose  except 
three,  Annas  being  one.  Caiaphas,  turning  pale,  cried, 
"Let  each  man  standing  go  immediately  to  his  own 
home." 

After  the  Galilean  sympathizers  had  all  passed  out, 
the  priests,  scribes  and  elders,  who  made  up  the  inner 
life  of  the  high  priest,  came  in,  and  Jesus  was  called 
and  questioned,  but  answered  nothing.  This  angered 
them  and  after  more  abuse  they  sent  him  out,  w^ien  the 
high  priest  and  his  abetters  grouped  and  conversed  in 


LOOKING    BACK  299 

low  tones.  It  was  then  determined  to  increase  the  mob 
and  surround  the  judgment  hall  of  Pilate,  and  allow  no 
one,  not  even  a  counsellor,  to  gain  entrance,  save  those 
who  would  clamor  for  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus. 


JESUS  BEFORE  PILATE 

Early  Pilate  entered  the  judgment  hall  and  with  a 
dark  scowl  said,  "What  accusation  have  you  against  this 
man?"  and  the  mob  cried,  "He  is  a  malefactor,  or  we 
would  not  have  brought  him  here." 

"What  crime  hath  he  committed?" 

"He  stirreth  up  the  people,  causing  insurrection." 

"How?" 

"He  says  he  is  the  Christ  which  was  to  come." 

"Is  he?" 

"He  is  a  carpenter  from  Galilee." 

"Carpenter  from  Galilee,  so  I  have  heard.  Loose  the. 
shackles  at  once ;  why  so  cruel." 

"He  deceiveth  the  people.     He  is  not  the  Christ." 

"Was  Christ  to  come  to  the  Gentiles?" 

"So  he  preaches,  but  he  blasphemes,  saying,  T  came 
forth  from  God.'  " 

"Can  a  man  so  arouse  the  world  unless  God  be  with 
him?" 

As  Pilate  was  speaking,  he  was  interrupted  by  a  serv- 
ant, who  announced  that  Pilate's  wife  awaited  him  in  the 
hall. 

The  old  Roman  scowled,  murmured  "unusual,"  then 
said,  "Admit  the  fair  lady." 

"Pilate,  oh,  Pilate,  thou  art  on  the  edge  of  an  eternal 
brink." 

"My  fair  one" 

"Listen,  oh,  listen,"  she  continued,  kneeling  at  his 
300 


LOOKING    BACK  301 

feet.  "When  first  the  morning  sun  hied  past  the  tower 
and  through  the  latticed  vines,  I  turned  to  smile,  as  a 
vision  caught  and  held  me  in  a  spell.  Before  me  lay  a 
winding  vale  through  which  a  crystal  stream  did  wend 
to  silver  islands,  whose  golden  shores  faded  away  into 
one  glorious  star-lit  eternity. 

"As  I  gazed,  the  scene  seemed  to  be  changing.  First 
the  stars  became  worlds,  then  the  worlds  became  king- 
doms, then  the  kingdoms  became  priests,  and  lastly  the 
priests  became  nothing. .  Then  again  the  stars  appeared 
all  singing,  'Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.' 

"Pilate,  oh,  Pilate,  my  loving  husband,  I  implore  you 
to  stand  firm,  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder  of 
this  just  person.  The  angels  are  now  recording  not  only 
every  word  but  every  thought  to  carry  home,  where  you 
and  I  must  soon  appear."  Then,  kissing  Pilate's  hand, 
she  looked  pitifully  at  Jesus  and  turned  away. 

Pilate  knit  his  brow  in  brown  study  for  a  moment 
and  then  said  to  the  accusers  of  Jesus,  "I  will  chastise 
this  man  and  then  let  him  go,"  to  which  the  mob  from 
Caiaphas  shouted,  "Crucify  him,  he  stirreth  up  the  people 
against  Caesar." 

Turning  back  to  Jesus,  Pilate  asked,  "From  whence 
art  thou?"  To  which  Jesus  gave  no  answer;  but  when 
he  repeated  the  question,  Jesus  said,  "To  this  end  was 
I  born  and  for  this  cause  came  I  into  the  world." 

When  the  rabble  continued  clamoring  for  the  death 
of  Jesus,  Pilate  washed  his  hands  before  the  accusers, 
saying,  "I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just  person ; 
his  blood  is  on  you."  Then  he  turned  him  over  to  the 
Roman  guard  to  be  crucified. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION 

When  the  soldiers  arrived  at  Calvary  with  Jesus,  thou- 
sands had  gathered  on  the  hill,  hoping,  still,  to  witness 
some  further  miracle.  Following  Jesus,  on  the  way, 
were  his  friends,  weeping  bitterly,  which  wailing  was 
taken  up  by  the  throng  on  the  hill.  Near  the  brow,  his 
strength  failed  and  he  fell  on  his  hands  and  knees,  when 
one  of  the  executioners  struck  him  a  heavy  blow^  but 
he  could  not  rise  until  the  cross  was  removed.  When 
able  to  stand,  he  turned  to  the  crowd  and  said,  "Daughters 
of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves, 
and  for  your  children."  Then  he  sank  to  the  ground  and 
was  seized  by  the  executioners,  carried  and  thrown 
heavily  upon  the  cross,  and  held  while  his  garments  were 
removed  and  his  hands  and  feet  nailed. 

Martha  groaned  and  cried,  "Oh,  the  cruel  Romans," 
to  which  Magdalene  voiced  in,  "Why  blame  the  Romans? 
These  are  Pilate's  executioners  doing  their  duty;  they 
must  be  wicked  or  they  would  faint.  Why  blame  the 
brigands  who  haled  him  to  Pilate ;  their  hearts  are  hard- 
ened, their  conscience  is  seared.  These  fiends  are  but  the 
tools  in  the  hands  of  Caiaphas.  The  doom  of  the  assas- 
sin awaits  them,  the  doom  of  a  coward  awaits  Pilate, 
but  the  doom  of  a  murderer  awaits  the  High  Priest  of 
Jerusalem.  I  go,  call  me  not,"  as  with  a  startled  look, 
the  insane  creature  smiled  and  ran  away. 

Kneeling  beside  the  rippling  stream  s'he  closed  her  eyes 
in  silent  prayer,  and  then  as  though  awakening  from  a 
302 


.     LOOKING    BACK  303 

dream  she  continued,  "But  why  this  darkness  in  my 
soul,  it  cannot  be  he  dies,  it  cannot  be  that  he  comes  no 
more."  Then  shuddering  cold  she  murmurs,  "True,  true, 
he  dies  and  death  ends  all, — yes,,  all."  Wildly  springing 
across  the  stream  she  turns  quickly,  again  gazes  on  Cal- 
vary and  smiles  a  demon's  smile,  murmuring,  "Yes,  Jesus 
is  dead,  I  am  dead.    Death  ends  all." 

As  darkness  spreads  its  mantle  over  the  face  of  nature, 
a  deep  gloom  invaded  the  hearts  of  the  people  in  and 
around  the  once  beautiful  City  of  Zion.  Those  who  had 
been  instrumental  in  sending  Jesus  to  the  cross,  feared 
that  the  end  had  not  yet  come,  while  those  who  had  list- 
ened to  his  teachings  feared  that  the  end  had  come.  His 
disciples  and  immediate  friends  had  no  leader,  they  were 
entirely  at  sea  and  everything  indicated  that  all  was  a 
failure  and  that  they  must  disband  and  return  home. 

The  next  day,  the  Sabbath,  was  quietly  spent  by  the 
Galileans,  discussing  how  they  might  take  the  body  of 
Jesus  to  Nazareth.  IMagdalene  all  the  while  contended 
against  every  proposition  introduced,  she  did  not  want 
to  have  the  body  removed,  she  did  not  want  to  go  home, 
neither  did  she  eat  or  drink,  was  on  her  feet  all  day,  often 
visiting  the  tomb  and  kneeling  before  it. 


ALONE  ON  OLIVET 

The  storm  is  past — the  scene  ended.  As  stranded 
wrecks  along  along  the  shore,  evidence  of  the  awful  night 
on  the  tempest  tossed  sea,  so  the  Galileans,  with  broken 
hearts,  lie  restless  near  old  Zion's  walls,  while  the  cruci- 
fixion of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  becomes  simply  a  page  of 
record  in  the  history  of  our  strange  world. 

Magdalene  lingers  in  the  twilight  at  Joseph's  tomb 
until  the  mother  of  Jesus  brings  her  away,  and  pleadingly 
tries  to  convince  her  that  it  may  be  a  part  of  God's  wise 
plan  to  awaken  the  world  and  lead  wanderers  home. 

At  last  she  seemingly  becomes  quiet,  and  as  the 
mother  smooths  her  silken  hair  she  feigns  rest,  in  sleep, 
but  when  all  is  still  she  silently  steals  away  in  the  shadows 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  At  the  top  she  hesitates, 
shudders,  scowls  and  then  laughs  hysterically,  as  she 
draws  her  sleeping  frock  closer  around  her  unprotected 
form. 

Standing  alone,  her  scant  attire  fluttering  in  the  cold 
north  breeze,  she  suddenly  awakens ;  with  outstretched 
arms  breaths  softly,  "Yes,  Fll  come,"  then,  bowing  low, 
whispers,  "I  thought  I  heard  him  call,"  then,  strangely 
wild,  proclaims,  "No — no — I  am  not  mad,  I  know  he  is 
dead,  he'll  call  me  Mary  nevermore." 

Turning  back,  she  shrugged  her  shoulders,  seeming 

herself  again,  and  while  gazing  over  the  Jordan  to  the  tar 

away  Moabite  hills  she  murmurs,  "Somewhere  in  those 

vine-clad  hills  the  childhood  home  of  pretty  Ruth  once 

304 


LOOKING    BACK  305 

lay,  and  here  so  near,  on  Bethlehem's  plain,  she  gleaned 
and  gleaned  until  she  won  his  heart ;  but  now  she  is  dead, 
they  are  all  dead.    They  come  again  no  more. 

"Oh,  my  soul,  hast  thou  no  home?  Oh,  evening 
star,  beautiful  heavenly  light,  wilt  thou  find  rest  in  the 
ocean  waves,  and  Magdalene  find  none,  oh  spangled 
heavens  and  God?  Could  I  this  night  lay  down  to  sleep 
in  the  swelling  bosom  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea  never  to 
awake,  never  to  remember  more.  Oh,  that  I  could  sleep 
forever  in  a  starless  night  that  knows  no  morning." 

One  long,  weird,  wicked  glance  she  casts  at  old  Jeru- 
salem and  then  murmurs,  "Was  it  but  yester'  night  that 
I,  before  that  monster,  stood  and  pleaded  and  pleaded  in 
vain.  Oh,  see  yon  cross  on  Cavalry's  brow.  I  go — I  go, 
my  heart  is  cold ;  I  die  for  him.  He  loves  me  still — no — 
no — he  loves  me  not,  he  is  dead,  he  will  love  me  never 
more.  Oh,  soulless  maid  from  Galilee,  did  you  once 
think  that  men  had  souls?  Where  is  my  dream  of  spirit 
homes,  where  tranquil  souls  are  joined  in  love,  far  away 
in  Heaven's  domain  ?  I  am  not  mad ;  I  know  he  is  dead ; 
there  is  no  God ;  there  is  no  home  where  spirits  dwell." 

Wandering  down  the  steep,  she  waits  a  moment  be- 
neath the  tree  where  she  had  knelt  and  prayed  that  Jesus 
go  with  her  to  Galilee.  Lingering  a  moment  in  this 
sacred  retreat,  she  sighs,  with  her  hand  on  her  heart,  and 
cries,  "Oh,  for  just  one  tear  to  melt  the  frosty  gloom 
on  this  cold  fount  of  life,"  but  tears  came  not. 

Leaping  the  stream,  she  ran  hysterically  up  the  rocky 
incline,  then  pausing  a  moment  at  the  gate  beautiful  she 
turned  towards  Calvary. 

At  the  Damascus  gate  she  was  startled  by  the  watch- 
man's cry  from  the  tower,  "All  is  well." 

"All  is  well — all  is  well,"  she  repeated  sarcastically. 


306  LOOKING    BACK 

Through  this  gate,  at  dead  of  night,  dark  demons  came, 
and  through  this  gate,  in  noonday  light,  he  bore  the  cross, 
the  cross  of  shame;  and  now  is  this,  the  great  high  priest 
that  sings,  "All — all  is  well" — footsteps  near  frightened 
her,  and,  shrieking  wildly,  she  whirled  and  fell  in  dear 
old  Peter's  arms,  who,  with  John,  took  her  back  to  those 
who  loved  her. 

THE    RESURRECTION 

Feigning  rest,  she  listened  until  heavy  breathing  as- 
sured her  that  all  were  sleeping,  when  softly  she  stole 
away  into  the  silent  night,  and  while  it  was  yet  dark 
glided  through  Gethsemane  to  Calvary.  While  kneeling 
at  the  tomb  a  strange  influence  aroused  her,  and,  turning, 
she  saw  Jesus. 

First  she  started  back,  then  springing  wildly  forward, 
cried,  "Jesus,  oh,  Jesus,"  as  she  extended  both  hands, 
strangely  to  awake  and  find  that  the  vision  had  passed. 
The  mother  of  Jesus  and  the  other  Mary  arrived  in  time 
to  hear  Magdalene's  voice  and  see  her  faint  and  fall,  but 
they  saw  no  man. 

When  Magdalene  realized  what  had  taken  place  she 
began  weeping,  and  crying,  "Glory  to  God."  Then,  as 
though  recalling  sad  scenes,  she  cried,  "Oh,  God,  forgive 
that  miserable  old  high  priest,  Caiaphas — Oh,  God,  for- 
give all  their  murderous  acts,  for  it  was  a  blessing  in 
disguise. 

She  could  not  walk  or  stand  upon  her  feet.  Soon  she 
swooned,  and  was  carried  back  as  one  dead  to  the  brow 
of  Olive's  mountain. 


MAGDALENE  HERSELF  AGAIN 

When  restored  to  consciousness  she  looked  wonder- 
ingly  about  her,  and  then  smihng  in  her  bright,  girHsh 
way,  said  to  John,  "^^'hen,  where  and  how  did  I  die?" 

When  told  she  had  not  died  she  inquired :  "Was  I 
alive  when  Jesus  came  to  me  ?"  and  being  told  she  was, 
she  continued,  "He  says  tell  the  disciples  to  meet  him  in 
Galilee,  and  that  I  must  see  Ruth  before  I  come  to  him ; 
and  tell  her  all  about  this — is  she  here  ?  Oh  no ;  what  a 
goose  I  am;  she  is  at  home,  way  up  in  Galilee — way  up 
in  Galilee,"  she  repeated,  and  then,  kissing  the  hand  of 
the  mother,  she  smilingly  said,  "Oh,  Aunty,  do  you  think 
little  birds  will  sing  next  summer,  when  I  am  gone,  as 
they  did  w^hen  Ruth  and  I  w^ere  little  girls,  we  never 
thinking  that  we  must  some  day  part?"  Then  for  a  mo- 
ment a  bewildered  look  seemed  to  control  her,  when, 
brightly  smiling  again  through  her  tears,  she  said :  "Oh, 
how  silly  I  am ;  soon  we  will  live  together  again  ;  what 
is  this  brief  span  of  life,  compared  to  an  endless  eternity? 
Tell  me.  Aunt  Mary,  did  you  see  Jesus?" 

"No,  Magdalene,  I  did  not." 

"Why,  he  looked  and  spake  just  exactly  as  when  he 
chided  me  ten  years  ago." 

Oh,  dear  me,  just  look  at  old  Peter  and  the  other 
men  back  there,  weeping  enough  to  break  their  necks 
because  they  think  I  am  dying.  Say,  Peter,  come  here 
and  tell  me  what  you  are  weeping  for." 

"Because  you  look  so  heavenly." 
307 


308  LOOKING    BACK 

"Did  you  think  I  looked  heavenly  when  you  used  to 
peddle  fish?" 

"Yes,  Magdalene,  you  looked  sweet  then,  but  you  was 
so  confounded  mean." 

She  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "Why,  Peter?" 

"Well,  Magdalene,  you  led  me  right  into  it,  just 
as  you  do  everyone  you  talk  with." 

Magdalene  looked  on  poor  Peter,  who  seemed  to  wilt 
and  fade  under  the  smiling  searchlight  of  the  now  happy 
Jewess. 

"John,"  she  said  quite  firmly,  "please  relieve  Aunt 
Mary  by  holding  me  in  your  arms  while  I  talk." 

When  he  had  taken  her  she  looked  in  his  face  and 
laughingly  said,  "Queer,  isn't  it,  John  ?  Once  you  wanted 
to  love  me  and  I  would  not  let  you,  now  I  want  you  to 
love  me  and  you  will  not." 

John  choked  and  sobbed  and  finally  said,  "I  do  love 
you,  Magdalene ;  we  all  love  you ;  the  angels  love  you,  and 
that  is  why  they  are  waiting  to  take  you  home." 

A  sweet  smile  lingered  on  the  swooning  beauty's  face 
while  John  gently  passed  his  hand  over  her  auburn  waves, 
which  seemed  to  awake  her  again,  and  she  said,  "Peter, 
where  do  you  think  Jesus  is  now  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Magdalene,  I  am  all  at  sea." 

"Peter,  he  may  be  right  here  now  and  knowing  all 
that  we  are  thinking." 

Peter  dropped  his  jaw.  Joseph  craned  his  long  neck, 
while  Nicodemus,  the  disciples  and  bystanders  all  leaned 
forward,  to  catch,  if  possible,  from  the  angel  face  the 
last  gleam  which  might  swing  the  gates  of  death  ajar. 

"I  know,"  she  continued,  "for  I  have  been  talking  with 
him." 

At  this  they  all  drew  near,  when  she  said,  "His  death 


LOOKING    BACK  309 

upon  the  cross  was  natural,  simply  the  separation  of  him- 
self from  his  body." 

"Has  he  gone  up  to  heaven,  from  whence  he  came  ?" 
inquired  Joseph. 

"Why,  Joseph,  you  are  worse  than  Peter ;  do  you  think 
heaven  is  up  above  the  moon?" 

"Magdalene,  you  know  what  Jesus  said  when  alive — " 

"When  alive,  Joseph ;  he  is  alive  now  and  possibly 
hears  every  word  you  say." 

"Be  that  as  it  may,  Magdalene ;  he  has  said  from  the 
beginning,  'I  came  down  from  heaven.'  " 

Magdalene  scowled,  and  with  a  painful  effort  bit  her 
lip  as  she  tried  to  form  a  convincing  sentence,  and  then 
began :  "Down  in  a  well  and  up  on  a  hill  are  material 
positions,  while  down  in  hell  and  up  in  heaven  are 
spiritual   conditions. 

"Think  of  Jesus  as  living  in  a  purely  spiritual  con- 
dition and  volunteering  to  take  on  humanity  and  live  with 
us  as  animals.  In  that  he  came  down  from  on  high 
to  that  low,  hellish  animal,  condition  of  last  Friday. 
And,  Joseph,  when  you  thought  you  were  laying  Jesus 
in  your  tomb,  he  was  not  necessarily  there.  I  know 
that  I  was  face  to  face  with  Jesus,  and  there  are  no 
scars  on  his  hands  or  thorns  in  his  brow." 

NIcodemus,  kneeling  beside  her,  said :  "I  know  you're 
weary,  but  can  you  answer  this — If  Jesus  was  not  in  his 
body  when  he  spoke  your  name,  how  did  you  hear  his 
voice  ?" 

Her  ready  reply  was :  "You  are  not  an  apt  scholar. 
Do  you  remember  when  you  came  to  Jesus  by  night, 
in  Bethany,  and  he  explained  how  one  could  be  born 
again?  And  now  you're  asking  me  if  a  body  can  talk. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  answer  you ;  I  know  not  the  secret 


310  LOOKING    BACK 

of  animal  existence,  and  much  less  that  of  spiritual  life; 
but  this  much  I  do  know,  that  sound  and  sight  both 
create  impressions.  One  is  silent,  the  other  is  not,  yet 
they  are  equally  distinct.  Will  power,  thought,  joy, 
sorrow,  truth  are  all  noiseless,  yet  real,  so  why  not  sup- 
pose all  spiritual  life  be  the  same.  At  the  tomb  he  im- 
pressed me  that  I  must  see  the  disciples  and  see  Ruth 
before  I  came  home  to  him.  I  cannot  explain  how  it 
was,  but  I  am  sure  that  Jesus  was  not  in  the  body,  and  I 
do  not  know  as  I  was." 

As  she  closed  her  eyes  the  grizzly  counsellor  bowed 
and  kissed  the  tips  of  her  cold  fingers,  then  one  by  one 
the  listeners  drew  nearer  in  silence,  but  she  awoke  again. 


RUTH  COMES  TO  IvIEET  AIAGDALENE 

\Mien  Joseph  learned  that  Magdalene  wished  to  see 
Ruth  he  started  a  courier  on  a  fleet  beast,  with  orders  to 
take  four  relays  and  make  sure  to  reach  Nazareth  before 
sunset. 

When  they  arrived  at  Nazareth  they  found  all  in 
commotion,  for  the  report  had  come  that  Jesus  had  raised 
from  the  dead ;  that  Mary  Alagdalene  was  dying  and  had 
:alled  for  Ruth  to  come  to  Jerusalem. 

Jerome,  the  tanner,  made  ready  his  fleet  mule  for 
Ruth,  while  the  men  mounted  brisk  horses,  and  soon 
Ruth,  Jude  and  the  guide  hastened  down  the  narrow 
streets  into  the  open  plain  and  were  off  on  their  lone 
journey. 

As  the  moon  came  up  from  the  Sea  of  Galilee  three 
lone  riders  silently  sped  over  the  Esdraelon  plain,  with 
the  fleet  little  mule  on  which  Ruth  was  riding  in  the  lead. 
Near  the  renowned  city  of  Nain  the  guide  took  the  lead, 
speeding  past  Endor,  through  Shunan  and  over  the  Jezreel 
plain,  while  not  one  word  was  spoken  to  break  the  sad 
silence  of  poor  Ruth,  whose  ashy,  tearless  face  betokened 
consciousness  of  approaching  gloom. 

Changing  horses  at  Dothan,  they  continued  on 
through  Samaria,  past  Jacob's  well,  and  near  sunset 
turned  into  the  gorge  called  Eden's  vale,  where  they  saw 
in  the  distance  a  group  kneeling  in  the  shadows  beneath 
a  clump  of  olive  trees. 


311 


JOSEPH'S  LAST  INTERVIEW 

After  Joseph  had  started  the  courier  to  Nazareth 
he  provided  a  litter  with  four  stalwart  men  and  four 
relays  to  carry  Magdalene,  if  possible,  to  meet  Ruth. 
He  also  sent  several  camels  for  Mary  the  mother  of 
Jesus,  and  the  other  women,  with  an  animal  each  for 
Nicodemus  and  John,  and  four  beasts  of  burden  with  at- 
tending servants,  while  the  disciples,  on  foot,  followed  the 
train. 

Magdalene,  although  unable  to  retain  food  or  stimu- 
lants, could  talk  with  apparent  ease,  and  when  informed 
that  Joseph  dispatched  a  courier  for  Ruth  to  come  and 
meet  her  she  said  to  Joseph,  with  a  rougish  twinkle  in  her 
eye,  "If  you  were  not  so  awfully  old  and  I  was  not  so 
very  near  the  Golden  Gate  your  proposal  would  certainly 
receive  deep  consideration,"  to  which  Josph  continued  the 
joke  by  saying,  "But  I  have  one  wife,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  Joseph,  I  know  your  faithful  wife;  and 
does  she  scold  you  as  much  as  yoa  deserve?  I  hope  she 
does,  for  men  are  so  stupid  they  need  correcting  very 
often.  And  Joe,  are  you  kind  to  Hulda,  the  mother  of 
you  children,  and  the  sweetest  dame  in  Arimathaea,  the 
one  who  walked  by  your  side  all  these  years  and  allowed 
no  one  to  speak  despairingly  of  you?  You  would  not 
allow  yourself  to  love  another,  were  she  ever  so  young 
and  pretty,  would  you?" 

"Oh,  no — no,  Magdalene ;  but  tell  me,  before  we  part, 
how  you  can  be  so  cheerful,  even  blithe,  in  the  face  of 
death  ?" 

312 


LOOKING    BACK  313 

"Joseph,  you,  a  counsellor,  a  man  of  experience,  a 
ruler  among  the  Jews,  ask  me  to  explain  that  which  the 
children,  the  song  birds  of  the  morning  and  the  wild 
gazelle  of  the  plains  act  out  at  every  turn.  They  live 
in  the  present,  while  we  live  in  the  past,  present  and  ap- 
parent future.  If  you  knew  the  future  you  would  not 
be  content  to  stay.  God,  in  his  wisdom,  has  drawn  the 
veil  of  uncertainty  between  his  loved  people  and  their 
higher  life,  but  now  he  has  withdrawn  that  veil  from  me. 
Yesterday,  when  I  supposed  Jesus  was  dead,  I  feared, 
I  wondered,  I  shrank ;  today  I  am  glad,  my  soul  is  filled 
with  glory  and  I  am  impatiently  waiting  the  call ;  now, 
do  you  understand?" 

"Because  you  know  that  Jesus  lives?" 

"Yes,  Joseph.  All  through  life  I  knew  Jesus  as  he 
appeared ;  now  I  know  him  as  he  is ;  yesterday  the  dark 
unknown;  today  beautiful,  beautiful  life." 

"One  more  question,  Magdalene,  before  we  part ; 
Jesus  has  gone  home  and  you  are  determined  to  follow ; 
now  will  his  disciples  be  able  to  take  up  the  work  where 
the  master  has  laid  it  down?" 

"Oh,  I  do  not  know ;  as  yet,  you  see,  they  are  such 
a  set  of  cowards.  Here  is  my  John,  whose  affection  con- 
trols his  will  power;  then  there  is  Peter,  whose  cranium 
is  like  a  cocoanut  shell,  so  thick  that  nothing  can  get  in 
and  what  he  knows  cannot  get  out ;  still,  Peter  is  brave, 
he  will  win  at  last,  he  will  surely  die  at  his  post  if  neces- 
sary. Poor  Judas  Iscariot,  already  in  hell  before  he  died. 
Thomas  has  not  so  much  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed  ; 
Philip,  like  many,  is  so  weak  in  the  upper  story  that  he 
actually  thinks  he  understands  the  whole  plan  of  sal- 
vation. The  others,  with  one  exception,  are  not  strik- 
ing characters,  and  yet  they  would,  every  one,  fight  to  the 


314  LOOKING    BACK 

end  for  the  cause  of  Jesus  if  they  understdod  him  as  I 
do.  Oh,  that  Jesus  would  manifest  himself  to  them  as  he 
has  to  me. 

"I  do  not  know  what  will  come  next;  I  simply  know 
that  this  tragedy  is  the  beginning,  and  not  the  end.  God 
cannot  be  baffled ;  Jesus  has  sown  the  seed  of  individual 
purity,  which  will  spring  up  somewhere  at  some  time. 
If  the  Jews  discover  their  error  and  accept  him  as  the 
Christ,  they  will  become  the  spiritual  leaders  of  the  world, 
but  if  they  reject  him  the  world  will  reject  them  and  the 
terrific  blow  will  scatter  them  far  and  wide.  But  they 
will  turn  back  ;  it  may  be  thousands  of  years,  but  they  wil.' 
turn  back.  Abraham  will  not  forget  his  children ;  Moses 
yet  lives  and  he  will  lead  them  home.  The  Gentiles 
will  cease  to  persecute  and  all  will  be  lambs  of  one 
fold.  Good-bye,  Joseph,  you've  done  all  you  covild  and 
we  will  meet  again  tomorrow,  just  tomorrow,  Joseph;  we 
will  all  arrive  home." 


MAGDALENE'S  LAST  NIGHT  WITH  JOHN 

Gentle  hands  carried  Magdalene's  wasted  form  over 
the  Judean  hills,  camping  for  the  night  near  Bethel.  She, 
being  troubled  for  breath,  chose  to  rest  on  a  litter  beneath 
a  wide,  spreading  olive  tree  rather  than  accept  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  large  tent  Joseph  had  sent  for  them. 

After  the  usual  nursing,  and  she  had  been  bolstered 
up  with  huge  cushions,  she  was  able  to  talk,  and  again  be- 
came   buoyant. 

Nicodemus,  Mary  and  John  each  volunteered  to 
sit  by  her  side,  but  she  chose  John,  saying :  "Aunt  Mary,, 
you  must  rest  or  we  shall  be  compelled  to  procure  an 
ambulance  for  you;  and  you,  Nicodemus,  look  as  pale 
as  a  ghost ;  you  go  and  get  a  little  rest  also,  for  tomorrow 
will  be  an  eventful  day.  As  for  you,  John,  I  want  you 
to  prop  yourself  up  and  hold  my  hands  all  night,  then  I 
will  think  we  are  children  again." 

After  an  hour's  rest  she  opened  wide  her  large,  hazel 
eyes  and  laughingly  said,  "Tell  me,  John,  exactly  what 
you  were  thinking  about." 

John  hesitated. 

"Spit  it  out,  John ;  if  it's  funny  all  the  better,  for  all 
the  sadness  about  this  scene  is  that  you  must  stay  to 
fight  the  world  after  I  have  gone  home." 

"Well,  Lena,  I  was  thinking  about  the  first  time  we 
met." 

"Yes,  John,  so  was   I,  we  were  twelve  years  old; 
I  know  exactly  what  you  want  to  tell ;  it's  about  my  re- 
fusal before  your  proposal ;  now  go  ahead." 
315 


316  LOOKING    BACK 

"You  remember,"  began  John  seriously,  "that  we 
first  met  at  the  yearly  fish-fry  which  was  always  on  the 
south  shore  of  Galilee.  Oh,  Magdalene,  you  tell  it ;  I  can- 
not." 

"Go  right  on,"  she  said,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
delight. 

"Well,  your  aunt  and  my  mother  were  great  friends, 
you  know,  and  that  was  what  brought  us  young  ones  to- 
gether while  eating  our  fish.  I  can  see  you  just  as  you 
was  then ;  you  had  on  a  new  wine-colored  gown,  silk 
stockings,  tiny  sandals  and  your  hair  was  loose  over  your 
shoulders.  You  remember,  mother  fixed  me  up  smart ; 
being  tall,  I  really  looked  more  than  I  was,  so  we  made 
it  up  to  sly  away  from  the  common  young  hopefuls  and 
go  strolling  down  the  river,  where,  after  while,  we  sat 
down  on  the  bank  to  watch  the  little  fish  who  live  in  shore, 
and  you  began — " 

"No,  you  began — " 

"No,  you  began,  Lena." 

"Well,  have  it  your  way,  John;  go  on." 

"You,  Lena,  began  to  talk  about — yovi  see,  I  did  not 
know  you  then  as  I  do  now." 

"Go  right  on,  John,  or  I  shall  have  a  kaniption." 

"Yes,  you  began  to  talk  about  people  getting  married 
young,  very  young,  and  sometimes,  when  there  were  ob- 
jections, people  ran  away  together.  Then  we  told  our 
ages,  and  it  turned  out  that  you  were  one  day  older  than 
I,  when  you  sprang  to  your  feet  and  said :  'There,  John, 
the  jig  is  up,  for  I  positively  will  not  marry  a  man 
younger  than   myself.'  " 

"And  you  began  to  cry." 

"No,   Lena,   I   did  not." 

"What  did  you  do?" 


LOOKING    BACK  317 

"Oh,  not  much." 

"Much;  you  dared  me  to — " 

"No,  you  dared  me." 

"No,   you   dared  me,   John." 

"Now,  Lena,  you  dared  me  to  kiss  you  and  I  did." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  went  right  home  and  told  your 
mother." 

"Told  mother ;  I  should  say  not.  You  made  me  prom- 
ise never  to  tell.     Why,  Lena,  are  you  in  pain?" 

"Only  my  heart,  John — Oh,  if  Ruth  was  here." 

The  frail  creature  half  closed  her  eyes,  her  lips 
parted,  and  John  thought  she  was  going,  but  when  he 
called  Nicodemus  she  opened  them  again  and  smiled  and 
told  Nicodemus  to  go  to  his  rest. 

After  a  few  moments  she  seemed  to  come  back  again 
and  said,  "Oh,  John,  is  Heaven  really  so  near?"  Then 
she  seemed  to  become  a  child  again,  and  said,  "Tell  me 
something  inspiring ;  it  rests  me.  Do  not  weep,  John ; 
you  promised  to  be  brave ;  now  go  on  and  tell  me  about 
Pipe  and  his  dog.  Tell  it  just  as  though  you  were  tell- 
ing it  to  someone  else  and  I  was  not  listening." 

John  hesitated,  wiped  away  the  tears,  kissed  her  cold 
cheek  and  when  she  insisted,  began,  "Mary  Magdalene 
came  over  from  Nazareth  when  she  was  twelve  years 
old,  and  by  the  time  she  was  fifteen  she  had  become  the 
most  notorious  maid  that  graced  the  west  shore  of 
Galilee.  She  had  staunch  friends,  who  would  go  through 
fire  and  water  to  protect  her — " 

"And  you  were  one?" 

"Certainly  I  was,  for  she  was  pretty,  neat,  witty 
and  wonderful  in  a  case  of  emergency.  She  made  some 
enemies ;  for  while  nothing  was  too  good  for  those  she 
loved,  so  there  was  no  letup  on  her  dislikes." 


318  LOOKING    BACK 

"Why  did  so  many  hate  her,  John?" 

"Oh,  she  was  well  dressed  and  attractive,  which  was 
more  than  her  female  companions  could  stand ;  and  then, . 
while  she  was  upright  and  generous,  she  was  reserved 
and  often  imprudent,  to  that  extent  that  when  irritated 
she  bridled  not  her  tongue." 

"Not  even  for  you?" 

"Oh,  I  was  an  exception." 

"So  you  were,   John ;  go  on." 

"Old  Pipe  the  potter  had,  besides  a  large  family 
of  children,  a  white  pet  dog,  and  for  a  joke  this  maid 
from  Nazareth  formed  a  compact  with  one  John,  the 
brother  of  James — " 

"Where  is  that  John  now?" 

"Keep  quiet,  Lena,  or  you  will  get  me  to  weeping 
again  and  spoil  the  story.  She  and  John  caught  the  dog 
and  hid  him  in  the  cellar  of  John's  home,  and  a  day  or  so 
after  Magdalene  started  a  rumor  that  she  had  seen  some- 
thing white  floating  in  the  lake,  south  of  Tiberias,  which 
looked  like  that  dog.  Old  Pipe  at  once  accused  her  of 
stealing  and  drowning  his  dog,  but  after  an  all  day,  fruit- 
less search,  she  and  John  loosed  the  dog  and  sent  him 
home.  Somehow  the.  joke  got  out,  and  old  Pipe  rent 
his  garments  and  swore  vengeance  on  the  Sidehill  Whirl- 
wind. On  the  street,  one  day,  he  began  to  upbraid  her, 
when  she  turned  upon  him  with  something  she  had  heard 
her  Aunt  Susie  tell  about  his  family  affairs  which  closed 
him  up  like  a  clam — had  you  not  better  rest  again,  Lena  ?" 

"No,  John,  go  on;  I'm  in  no  pain,  only  those  spells 
of  suffocation.  I  want  you  to  tell  this  so  you  will  re- 
member I  love  you  when  I  am  gone." 

Nicodemus  now  appeared  with  his  cup,  which  re- 
vived her,  and  John  continued,   "When  our  Fall   Gaily 


LOOKING    BACK  319 

Day  came  on  all  the  country  around  flocked  to  the  Lake 
to  see  the  fun ;  Jesus,  James  and  Ruth  came  over  from 
Nazareth." 

"Yes,  I  remember;  they  stayed  with  Aunty  and  me, 
and  Ruth  stayed  a  week  or  more." 

"Well,  there  were  all  kinds  of  sports  and  games, 
foot  and  horse  racing,  singing,  dancing,  etc.,  and  then 
such  a  dinner  as  we  had. 

"Everybody  wanted  to  see  Magdalene  run,  and  the 
best  that  could  be  done  was  to  match  the  Sidehill  Whirl- 
wind with  one  of  the  Mur  girls,  a  fleety  family  who  lived 
on  the  hills  in  Safed.  The  Whirlwind  gave  the  Mur  girl 
twenty  paces  the  start  in  a  two  hundred  pace  race,  but 
she  told  her  aunt  and  John's  mother  she  feared  Miss 
Mur  had  too  great  an  advantage  for  her  to  ever  over- 
take her. 

"When  the  race  was  called  and  the  word  given,  John 
remembers  just  how  Lena  looked,  with  her  head  thrown 
back,  coming  down  the  line  just  like  a  shooting  star,  when 
old  Zerna,  the  fig  peddler,  attempted  to  cross  the  way  and 
Magdalene's  knee  collided  with  the  side  of  her  head. 
The  old  woman  spun  around  and  around  like  a  top  as 
Magdalene  fell  on  her  hands  and  knees,  but  recovered 
in  time  to  win." 

"Did  she  win  fair?" 

"Oh,  I  guess  it  was  about  a  draw,  for  the  time- 
keeper told  John's  father  the  next  day  that  he  rather 
favored  the  Whirlwind  because  the  old  fig  woman  got 
in  her  way, 

"When  the  boat  race  was  coming  oflf  the  men  gath- 
ered south  along  the  shore  to  get  a  better  view  of  the 
maneuvers,  while  the  women  and  children  stood  on  the 
landings   at    Capernaum.      John,    Mary   Magdalene    and 


320  LOOKING    BACK 

several  other  young  folks  had  climbed  to  the  roof  of  a 
house  when  they  heard  the  cry  that  old  Pipe's  child 
had  fallen  into  the  water  and  was  drowning.  A  cry  went 
up  for  a  fisherman  to  save  the  child,  but  all  the  men  were 
down  toward  Tiberias. 

"When  our  group  from  the  housetop  arrived  we  could 
see  the  little  boy's  white  garments  at  the  bottom,  under 
two  fathoms  of  water.  Instantly,  Mary  Magdalene 
plunged  down  head  foremost  and  brought  the  little  one 
up  ill  her  arms,  and  as  no  one  could  reach  it  she  somehow 
held  it  out  of  the  water  and  swam  to  the  little  sand  beach 
just  south  of  Capernaum.  Old  Pipe  arrived  on  the 
scene  just  as  she  was  wading  ashore  with  the  child  and, 
falling  on  his  knees,  began  imploring  her  to  forgive  him 
for  all  he  had  injured  her,  but  instead  she  handed  him  the 
struggling  child  as  she  indignantly  said :  'Take  your  little 
brat,  it  is  not  to  blame  for  having  a  contemptible  father.' 

"After  a  change  to  dry  clothes  the  naughty  maid 
hunted  up  old  Pipe  and  forgave  him  all,  so  that  was  how 
they  became  fast  friends,  and  she,  of  course,  became  the 
heroine  of  the  day." 

Thus,  the  last  night  of  her  life,  Magdalene  listened 
to  reminiscences  of  naughty  pranks  and  sweet  affections 
of  childhood's  sunny  hours. 


LAST   GOOD-BYE 

At  sunrise,  after  assuring  Magdalene  that  Ruth  was 
on  the  way  from  Nazareth,  the  Httle  group  took  up  their 
weary  journey,  moving  north  until  they  descended  into 
a  deep  valley  where  a  clear  stream  from  the  hills  me- 
anders through  the  woody  dell  which  was  called  by  the 
Datriarchs,   Eden's  Vale. 

Here  Magdalene  implored  them  to  stay  and  bathe  her 
parched  lips  and  fevered  brow  in  the  cool  waters  from  the 
hills  of  Shiloh.  Soon  she  fell  into  a  doze  from  whence 
she,  at  intervals,  would  awake  and  call  for  John,  and  in- 
quire if  Ruth  was  near.  So  the  day  wore  on,  her  breath- 
ing growing  more  faint.  Twice  she  ceased  to  breathe, 
then  came  back  again  and  smiled. 

Lastly  she  opened  wide  her  eyes,  pressed  John's  hand 
to  her  lips,  then  softly  settled  back  in  silence,  just  as  two 
dusty  riders  came  around  the  bend,  at  once  recognized  as 
Ruth   and   Jude. 

Ruth  swung  from  her  horse  and  ran  to  where  she 
could  see  her ;  then,  thinking  she  was  dead,  moved  softly 
forward,  and  kneeling  by  her  side  kissed  her  lips,  at 
which  she  came  back,  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled. 

"Lena,  oh  Lena,  my  dear,  what  can  I  do  to  save  your 
life." 

"Ruth,  darling  Ruth,  I  have  lingered  all  the  day  to 
love  you  once  more  and  tell  you  I  am  not  dying.  Just 
going  home,  where  I  will  love  you  still,  and  when  the 
evening  shadows  fall  and  you  go  wandering  into  the  grove 
think  of  me  as  with  you.  Oh,  Ruth,  I  will  come  so  near 
321 


322  LOOKING    BACK 

that  you  will  feel  my  presence  in  your  soul.  My  darling 
girl,  banish  every  thought  of  death  and  bare  your  bosom 
to  the  storms  of  life  until  the  angel  comes  to  call  you 
home.  Oh,  sister  dear,  if  you  could  only  know  my  feel- 
ings now,  in  this  strange  scene  that  you  call  death.  The 
sting  of  all  life's  troubles  are  more  than  repaid  in  these 
passing  moments  of  tranquil  bliss,  and  yet  some  scenes 
have  been  so  sad.  I  pleaded  with  all  my  soul  before 
Caiaphas,  but  his  heart  was  hardened ;  they  went  their 
way.  They  nailed  him  to  the  cross  and  then  the  sun  grew 
dim  and  the  world  became  cold.  But  while  I  waited  at 
the  tomb  a  form  appeared,  and  it  was  Jesus,  who  told  me 
that  your  faith  was  weak  and  I  must  comfort  you  now, 
as  you  had  me  in  days  gone  by." 

"Did  Jesus  speak  to  you  after  he  was  dead?" 
"Oh,  Ruth,  you  thoughtless  child,  banish  the  idea  of 
death.  He  is  not  dead.  They  killed  his  body,  but  the 
body  is  just  the  mask;  that  is  why  great  souls  are  un- 
known on  earth.  Jesus  still  lives.  I  cannot  tell  if  he 
spoke  or  not,  or  how  he  appeared  or  disappeared,  but 
the  word,  'Mary,'  sounded  just  as  he  always  spoke,  and  I 
saw  him  as  distinctly  as  I  see  you  now.  His  attitude  and 
movement  were  such  that  I  supposed  he  had  come  to  life 
until  he  disappeared.  The  body  is  not  the  person,  Ruth. 
It  is  the  form  that  we  wear  •  it  is  ever  dying,  dying  while 
the  unseen  yet  lives.  Love  me,  sweet,  dear  Ruth,  and  let 
me  go.  John,  come ;  kiss  me  and  say  you  will  never  cease 
to  love.  Dear  ones,  you  must  not  weep  when  I  am  gone. 
Think  of  me  as  living,  as  one  who  can  still  commune, 
influence,  comfort  and  help  you  when  mystery  darkens 
all  your  ways." 

Softly    the    fading    flower    swooned    away,    her    lips 
parting   and    eyes    closing;    then,    strangely,    a    shadowy 


LOOKING    BACK  323 

movement  brightened  her  face  and  a  httle  flush  came  to 
her  cheeks ;  while  John  and  Ruth,  in  silence,  awaited  the 
death   angel. 

Three  days'  journey  brought  the  mourners  to  the  hill- 
side city  of  Nazareth,  where  Magdalene  had  so  often 
shocked  the  sanctimonious  with  her  naughty  pranks. 

The  tide  had  turned,  harsh  criticism  had  changed  to 
love,  as  from  Nazareth,  Endor,  Nain  and  Cana,  together 
with  the  throng  from  the  west  shore,  they  sadly  ap- 
proached the  hillside  home  of  Aunt  Susanna,  where,  near 
the  close  of  day,  in  the  old  garden,  they  laid  to  sleep 
the  form  of  Mary  Magdalene. 

Here,  when  the  tourist  visits  the  ruins  of  Capernaum, 
where  Jesus  met  rebuff,  they  mention  with  pride  Peter 
in  prison,  Paul  before  Agrippa  and  John  on  the  Isle  of 
Patmos,  while  they  never  mention  the  heroic  maid  tc 
whom  the  Gate  Beautiful  first  swung  ajar. 


THE  PRICKETT  HOME 

Goshen,  Ind.,  May  18,  1902. 

My  dear  M.  A. :  I  will  now  reply  to  yours,  received 
a  few  days  ago.  Yes,  I  hope  our  wedding  day  will  be 
bright  and  sunny,  and  that  sunshine  and  affection  may  be 
with  us  as  we  journey  together. 

I  have  never  seen  a  mountain,  and  if  I  appear  green 
to  your  people  when  we  reach  Connecticut,  you  must 
excuse  me. 

I  am  feeling  somewhat  depressed  this  evening,  for 
my  sister  Minerva  and  I  have  been  over  to  Solomon's 
Creek  today,  visiting  our  old  home  on  the  farm. 

The  enclosed  is  a  picture  of  our  old  home,  gotten  up 
of  late,  but  it  represents  us  children  as  we  were  years  ago 
when  we  were  all  at  home. 

Now  mother  and  James  are  gone  to  their  long  home ; 
father  is  married  again ;  the  farm  is  sold,  but  still  it 
seems  like  home. 

In  imagination  we  were  children  again ;  Mahala, 
Minerva  and  I.  We  were  romping  in  the  pastures,  woods 
and  fields ;  climbing  pear  trees,  gathering  grapes,  currants 
and  cherries ;  and  I  told  Minerva  that  I  could  almost  hear 
Jeff  and  the  other  boys  laughing  at  us  when  the  naughty 
buck  sheep  chased  us  onto  the  haystack,  our  only  safe 
retreat. 

The  old  maple  trees,  from  which  w^e  made  svigar,  are 

there  and  many  of  the  other  trees,  old  fences  and  the  like 

look  natural.     We  talked  of  how  our  brothers  used  to 

fit   us    out    with   hooks    and   bait   to   go    fishing   in    the 

324 


LOOKING    BACK  325 

creek,  where  our  anticipation  far  exceeded  our  realiza- 
tion; that  is,  as  far  as  fish  were  concerned,  but  really, 
we  did  sometimes  get  a  bite. 

We  talked  of  how  father  always  brought  the  minister 
home  to  dinner  Sunday,  and  how  mother  had  to  fly 
around  waiting  on  them. 

All  these  old  times  seem  to  come  back  to  us  in  a  sort 
of  day  dream,  as  this  evening  Minerva,  Cash  and  I  are 
in  their  beautiful  home  here  in  Goshen.  You  and  I  will 
soon  be  in  ours  in  Oak  Park.  I  know  we  shall  enjoy 
ourselves  in  the  home  which  you  are  building  for  us, 
which  we  went  out  to  see. 

I  wish  I  might  talk  with  you  instead  of  writing.  Shall 
anxiously    await   your    reply. 

Good-night, 

Your   Mary. 


OURSELVES 

We  are  strange  beings ;  ovir  journey  through  life 
is  a  wonderful  career.  Through  unfolding  years  of  child- 
hood, later  literary  pursuits  and  life  experience,  we  hasten 
forward,  aspiring  to  reach  our  day-dream  fancies. 

When  about  forty  we  seem  to  rest,  refllect  and 
soliloquize :  "Who  am  I ;  what  am  I ;  where  from ;  where 
bound;  why  do  I  enjoy,  and  why  do  I  weep?  How  all 
these  unseen  emotions  if  my  feelings  are  not  controlled 
by  an  invisible  person  who  knows,  thinks  and  dictates?" 

Reason  and  science  teach  that  we  are  complex  beings, 
living  on  the  outside  of  a  world  which  holds  us  from  fall- 
ing off  by  a  force  called  gravity. 

Our  abode,  our  home  world,  is  so  far  from  other 
worlds  that  we  have  no  communication  with  their  in- 
habitants. In  fact,  we  do  not  know  that  other  worlds 
are  inhabited  by  beings  standing  around  on  their  hind 
legs  like  ourselves.  We  simply  know  that  our  world  is 
voyaging  among  millions  of  other  worlds,  which,  at 
certain  periods  of  their  life-day,  must  resemble  the  con- 
dition of  our  world  today,  for  their  elements  and  move- 
ments are  similar  to  ours. 

Apparently  the  entire  material  universe,  of  which  our 
bodies  form  a  part,  is  actuated  by  an  invisible  force  of 
push.  Everything  is  moving  on,  giving  place  and  taking 
place,  cohesion  followed  by  dissolution. 

The  velocity  of  this  continued  material  movement  is 
governed  by  conditions.  On  one  hand  the  mountains, 
or  earth's  age  wrinkles,  rise  so  slowly  that  the  changes 
326 


LOOKING    BACK  327 

of  thousands  of  years  may  be  inperceptible,  while,  on  the 
other,  the  velocity  of  the  molecular  forces  astound  us, 
for  we  are  taught  that  the  electrons  in  our  own  bodies, 
and  all  other  material  substance,  are  continually  darting 
around  the  corners  of  the  atoms  at  the  rapidity  of  more 
than  one  hundred  thousand  miles  per  second.  This  state- 
ment seems  incredible,  except  when  we  consider  tele- 
graphy. In  that,  even  if  vibration  is  assumed,  some- 
thing travels  over  the  entire  distance ;  or,  something 
awakes  something  else,  which,  in  turn,  arouses  the  next 
over  the  entire  course.  This  astounding  proof  encourages 
us  in  our  faith  in  infinity  and  God. 

Truly,  death  does  not  end  the  commotion,  for,  when 
we  bury  our  dead  the  molecules  begin  escaping  up 
through  the  gravel  to  gain  their  freedom,  and  it  may 
require  thousands  of  years  or  but  a  few  seconds  ;  in  the 
end  all  have  flown  away  into  the  sweet,  pure  atmosphere, 
and  the  form  has  disappeared. 

This  strange  inquiry  does  not  end  with  the  study  of 
the  physical  system,  for,  as  stated,  we  find  we  are 
possessed  by  something  invisible,  and  yet  personal,  to  our- 
selves. That  which  loves,  approves,  decides,  reasons, 
knows  right  from  wrong  and  wills  to  do.  This  self- 
evident,  mysterious  thing  we  may  be  allowed  to  desig- 
nate as  self,  or  soul. 


WILLIAM  JAMES,  OF  HARVARD 

For  information  concerning  these  mysteries  we  turn 
to  public  instructors  of  our  country  and  Europe,  and  find 
that  the  higher  branches  of  education  are  controlled  by 
men  who  teach  that  man  has  no  soul,  or  invisible  guide. 
What  we  call  soul  action  is  nothing  more  than  reflex 
action  from  brain  compound,  aroused  by  external  stimuli. 

A  sample  of  these  teachings  can  be  found  in  the 
works  of  William  James,  Professor  of  Psychology  in 
Harvard  University  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  from  where 
agnostic  youths  return  home  from  college  to  sympathize 
with  father  and  mother,  who  are  so  old-fashioned  and 
ignorant  as  to  actually  believe  they  have  a  soul  to  save. 

In  James'  works,  of  about  1400  pages,  issued  in  1902, 
which  are  considered  standard  in  Europe  and  the  United 
Staes,  we  find,  Volume  1,  Page  348: 

"The  soul,  however,  when  carefully  scrutinized,  guar- 
antees no  immortality;  therefore  I  feel  perfectly  free  to 
discard  the  word  soul  from  the  rest  of  my  books.  The 
reader  who  finds  any  comfort  in  the  idea  of  the  soul  is, 
however,  perfectly  free  to  continue  to  believe  in  it." 

Volume  2,  Page  572 :  "My  own  belief  is  that  the 
question  of  free  will  is  insoluble." 

Page  576:  "We  can,  therefore,  leave  the  free  will 
question  out  of  our  account." 

Page  108 :  "The  entire  nervous  system  is  nothing  but 
a  system  of  paths  between  a  sensory  terminous  and  a 
muscular   glandular." 

Pag-e  179:     "Everv  individual  cell  has  its  own  con- 


LOOKING    BACK  329 

sciousness,  which  no  other  cell  knows  anything  about." 

Page  291 :  A  man's  self  is  the  sum  total  of  all  that 
be  can  call  his,  not  only  his  body,  but  his  clothes." 

Page  296 :     "Self,  not  personality,  unity  or  pure  ego." 

Page  339 :  Each  pulse  of  cognitive  consciousness, 
each  thought  dies  away  or  is  replaced." 

Page  401 :     "Thought  itself  is  a  thinker." 

Page  554:  "Let  us  try  as  we  will  to  express  this 
cerebral  activity  in  exclusive  mechanical  terms.  I,  for 
one,  find  it  quite  impossible — the  soul  presents  nothing 
herself ;  and  creates  nothing." 

Page  656:  "The  retention  of  the  experience  (mem- 
ory) is  nothing  more  or  less  than  the  brain  paths  which 
associate  the  experience  with  the  occasion  and  the  recall." 

Volume  2,  Page  487 :  "The  only  ends  that  follow  im- 
mediately upon  our  willing  seem  to  be  the  movement 
of  our  bodies." 

Page  495 :  "Why  any  state  of  consciousness  should 
precede  a  movement  we  do  not  know." 

Volume  1,  Page  64:  "The  highest  centers  do  prob- 
ably contain  nothing  but  arrangements  for  representing 
impressions  and  movements,  and  other  arrangements 
for  coupling  the  activities  of  these  arrangements,  which 
in  turn  excite  others,  until  at  last  a  motor  discharge 
occurs." 

Page  29 :  "Can  we  tell  precisely  in  what  the  feelings 
of  the  central  active  self  consists?  When  I  forsake 
general  principles  and  grapple  with  particular  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  detect  any  pure  spiritual  elements  at  all." 

Page  107:  "The  currents,  once  in,  must  find  their 
way  out.  In  getting  out  they  leave  their  track.  The  only 
thing  they  can  do,  in  short,  is  to  deepen  old  paths  or  make 
new  ones,  and  the  whole  plasticity  of  the  brain  sums  itself 


330  LOOKING    BACK 

up  in  tv/o  words,  when  we  call  the  brain  an  organ  in 
which  currents  passing  in  from  the  sense  organs  make 
paths  which  do  not  easily  disappear." 

The  reader  will  here  observe  that  James  refers  to 
motor  discharges  and  brain  paths  as  though  he  actually 
believed,  or  that  there  was  evidence,  that  such  things 
existed. 

All  through  his  works  he  quotes  freely  from  agnostic 
and  atheistic  authors  who  have  been  attacking  religion 
for  about  three  hundred  years,  from  which  I  will  copy 
samples : 

Spino::;a  :  "Extension  is  invisible  thought,  thought  is 
invisible  extension.  Man  is  not  free-willed — God  neither 
thinks  nor  creates." 

John  Locke :  "Whatever  any  man  may  know,  or  rea- 
sonably believe  in,  or  even  conceive,  is  dependent  on 
human  experience." 

David  Hume :  "Ideas  are  but  weakened  copies  of 
impressions." 

Herbert  Spencer:  "No  idea  or  feeling  arises  save 
as  the  result  of  some  physical  force  expended  in  pro- 
ducing it." 

The  teachings  of  this  school  of  instructors  are  pe- 
culiar, inasmuch  as  no  such  ambiguity  concerning  reason 
or  will  power  has  heretofore  been  taught  at  large  or 
sanctioned  by  any  class  of  instructors  in  the  history  of 
our  world.  The  attempt  to  shelter  under  the  wing  of 
the  ancient  Greeks  is  plainly  a  misconstruction,  for  the 
wise  Greek  bowed  in  wonder  before  unknown  cause. 

Pythagoras,  582  B.  C.,  used  as  the  base  of  his  argu- 
ments transmigration  of  the  soul.  One  of  his  expressions 
was :   "The  soul  is  a  harmony  chained  to  the  body." 

Socrates :     "Design  proves  that  existence  is  God." 


LOOKING    BACK  331 

Aristotle:  "Thinking  or  thought  is  God  Theology — 
Soul  always  thinking  is  immortal." 

Thus  I  might  quote  from  deep  thinkers  from  Zoro- 
aster down  to  our  times.  If  one  feels  disposed  to  study 
the  works  of  those  self-styled  liberal  exponders  from 
Spinoza  to  James,  they  will  find  their  arguments  running 
essentially  in  the  same  groove,  virtually  this :  Animals, 
including  men,  are  not  possessed  by  an  invisible  guide. 
That  something  which  discerns  between  right  and  wrong 
and  dictates  to  the  body  whether  it  should  follow  the 
path  of  desire  or  virtue,  they  absolutely  ignore.  Because 
they  cannot  comprehend  the  mysteries  of  the  soul,  they 
dwell  upon  and  cling  to  tangible  material  effects,  actually 
assuming  effect  without  cause.  They  disallow  that  the 
good  Samaritan  and  the  Levite  had  exactly  the  same  ex- 
terior stimuli.  They  are  like  the  woman  at  Jacob's  well, 
who  could  comprehend  the  well  and  mountain,  but  could 
not  comprehend  the  invisible  spring.  She  awoke  when 
told  how  her  secrets  were  known,  but  they  awake  not, 
as  the  result  of  intention. 

James  makes  a  feeble  attempt  to  prove  that  matter 
thinks  when  he  says :  "Every  individual  cell  has  its  own 
consciousness,  which  no  other  cell  knows  anything  about 
— associated  by  brain  paths." 

What  profound  reasoning;  think  of  it.  Betts  tells 
us  that  there  are  three  thousand  million  cells,  or  neurons, 
in  an  adult  nervous  system ;  then  think  of  the  paths  lead- 
ing from  one  cell  to  the  other.  We  learn  that  light,  or 
electricity,  would  travel  around  our  world  eight  times  in 
one  second ;  I  wonder,  if  at  the  same  rate  of  speed,  how 
long  it  would  take  an  exterior  stimulus  to  cover  the 
distance  over  one  of  his  brain  paths,  from  cell  to  cell. 

"Oh,"  but  one  says,  "Richardson,  you  do  not  under- 


332  LOOKING    BACK 

stand  James."  Allowed,  but  if  a  man  of  my  experience 
does  not  understand  materialism,  how  is  a  youth  of 
twenty  years  expected  to  understand  it? 

Man  cannot  explain  memory,  but  he  knows  it  is  the 
principle  in  the  ego,  or  soul.  To  illustrate :  In  a  crowd 
I  overhear  a  voice.  I  say  to  the  talker,  "I  recognize  your 
voice,  but  I  cannot  place  you."  "Think  again,"  he  says. 
Now,  I  start  back  over  life's  trail,  listening  to  voices, 
one-two-twenty-forty  years,  then  I  say,  "your  name  is 
Edwin  Pease."  "Yes,"  he  says,  "we  were  boys  together 
fifty  years  ago." 

Did  this  familiar  voice,  the  true  External  Stimulus, 
awaken  something  which  existed,  or  did  it  create  some- 
thing in  my  brain? 

James  calls  this  a  motor  discharge,  which  we  will 
admit,  but  he  wavers  when  he  says,  "Why  any  state  of 
consciousness  should  precede  a  movement  we  do  not 
know."  Then  he  adds,  "The  soul  presents  nothing  her- 
self and  creates  nothing." 

Exterior  Stimuli,  he  assumes,  awakens  the  sinews, 
which  in  turn  cause  the  body  to  act.  Do  not  External 
Stimuli  cause  the  vegetable  to  act !  Go  set  your  little 
geranium  in  the  south  window  and  see  how  soon  it  turns 
its  pretty  face  to  the  sun.  These  acts  may  receive  their 
origin  in  the  law  of  inclination,  permitted  but  not  emitted, 
while  every  act  of  a  sane  animal  is  an  exhibition  of  in- 
tention. Exterior  Stimuli  are  individual  causes.  Inten- 
tional response  is  of  invisible  individual  origin.  Reflex 
action  would  be  nothing  but  continued  Exterior  Stimuli. 

The  invisible  actor  is  the  man ;  see  him  out  on  the 
wings  of  the  soul  in  the  far  away  Eternity,  weighing  the 
stars,  predicting  their  course,  calculating  their  velocity 
and  testing  their  elements. 


LOOKING    BACK  333 

See  our  Edison  bottling  up  the  lightning's  wild  vim 
and  causing  it,  in  its  attempt  to  regain  liberty,  to  serve 
man  silently  and  safely.  Would  the  Stimuli  which  cause 
Edison  to  invent  cause  any  other  man  of  the  same  ex- 
perience and  education  to  evolve  the  same  results? 
Answer  yes,  and  you  expose  your  weakness.  Answer  no, 
and  you  establish  the  mysterious,  invisible  thinking  soul. 

Materialism  is  an  educational  attempt  to  compel  the 
religious  world  to  prove  that  which  they  do  not  profess 
to  comprehend.  Knowledge  is  the  accumulation  of  past 
earthly  experience.  Send  a  weakling  through  college 
and  he  has  obtained  knowledge,  but  he  is  the  same  simple 
Simon. 

Wisdom  is  innate ;  it  consists  of  individual  ability  to 
comprehend.  It  is  peculiar  to  each  self,  and  cannot  be 
obtained  through  experience  or  education. 

According  to  James,  self  is  the  body,  clothes  and 
surroundings.  According  to  Genesis  it  is  the  image  of 
God.  Is  God  an  animal?  Jesus  said  to  the  Samaritan 
woman :  "God  is  spirit."  Is  Jesus  authority  ?  Man's 
body,  wealth  and  surroundings  are  not  even  his,  they  are 
simply  under  his  control  for  a  season.  Self  is  that 
strange  quality  which  designates  one  person  from  an- 
other. Memory  and  self  are  closely  connected.  It  may 
be  that  the  soul  possesses  memory  of  experience  in  other 
worlds,  which,  like  all  absent  memory,  awaits  recall. 

Sleep  represents  a  mysterious  condition  of  the  soul. 
When  the  veil  of  consciousness  begins  to  vanish  one 
enters  a  sphere  which  is  not  controlled  by  reason,  but 
rather  by  emotion ;  which,  in  dreaming,  is  often  very  in- 
tense and  dictates  wildly. 

The  lower  animals  are  possessed  of  a  soul,  but  if  they 
have  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong  it  is  undeveloped,  in  fact, 


334  LOOKING    BACK 

the  connecting  link  between  man  and  beast  may  be  con- 
sciousness of  wrong. 

Faith  is  an  easy  couch  on  which  to  repose ;  as  a 
bridge  it  spans  dark  rivers  of  uncertainty,  but  it  requires 
no  faith  to  beheve  in  the  soul. 

Even  Spinoza  must  have  observed  that  desire,  reason 
and  conscience  are  under  the  control  of  a  distant  power 
which  can  brush  them  all  aside  and  go  on  its  way,  but 
it  does  not  control  memory. 

Unconsciousness,  whether  in  sleep  or  in  death,  ought 
not  to  frighten  us.  If  in  sleep  it  does  not  impair  memory, 
it  does  not  in  death,  as  they  are  both  simply  the  veil 
which  shv:ts  ofif  our  view. 

In  short,  the  soul  appears  through  the  body  as  it; 
organ,  giving  us  a  view  of  its  wonder  through  the  flash- 
light of  sensibility,  one  view  at  a  time  and  no  more. 

In  some  mysterious,  incomprehensible  way  the  past 
travels  with  the  present.  Memory,  anticipation  and 
dreams  are  often  far  more  real  than  when  face  to  face 
with  animal  activity. 

We  cannot  comprehend  first  cause ;  result  is  our  only 
guide,  but  we  dimly  comprehend  the  apparent  steps  from 
the  mineral  to  the  spiritual. 

Mineral  life  is  inspiring  in  that  it  represents  the  star- 
lit Eternity  into  which  we  gaze  in  wonder  and  contem- 
plate the  incessant  transformation. 

Vegetable  life  creeps  softly  after,  in  obedience  to  the 
law  of  inclination,  the  roots  search  in  darkness  for  moist- 
ure while  the  foliage  turns  to  the  morning  sun  in  gladness. 

Animal  life  cuts  clear  from  vegetable  moorings  mys- 
teriously equipped  with  an  invisible  guide. 


GLADSTONE 

Spiritual  life  is  the  soul  unincumbered  by  material 
bondage. 

To  prove  that  extinction  or  enfeeblement  of  the  body 
does  not  impair  the  soul,  we  will  consider  the  life  of  Glad- 
stone, for  if  we  find  an  isolated  case  whose  mind  did  not 
'.veaken  along  with  the  body,  it  is  positive  proof  that  all 
30-called  dotage  or  drowsiness  of  the  aged  is  simply  the 
effect  of  the  live  soul  impeded  in  its  effort  to  recall  fa- 
miliar occurrences  through  impaired  organs.  This  is  ob- 
vious from  the  fact  that  when  the  object  has  been  recalled 
the  spiritual  vision  of  the  object  appears  in  all  its  original 
minuteness. 

Everyone  who  reads  knows  that  Gladstone  when  he 
carried  the  Home  Rule  Bill  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
at  the  age  of  eighty-four,  was  as  elegant,  scrutinizing,  and 
powerful  in  his  debates  as  when  forty-four  years  old. 
Still  at  that  age  his  sight,  hearing,  power  of  recall  of 
names,  and  tottering  form  were  incessantly  passing  away. 

Is  not  this  evidence  that  two  distinct  agencies  were 
at  the  time  involved,  life  and  death. 

According  to  James'  no-soul  theory,  his  speech  was 
involuntary  reflex  action,  governed  by  neither  will  nor 
memory,  while  according  to  reason  the  spirit  which  con- 
trolled this  wonderful  man's  feeble,  tottering  form  was  as 
clear  and  bright  as  it  had  been  in  days  gone  by. 

Falling  asleep  in  death  is  not  a  new  venture.  We  are 
unconscious  through  life  of  all  we  know  except  as  mo- 
mentary knowledge  comes  forth  through  the  organs, 
335 


336  LOOKING    BACK 

which  in  sleep  as  in  death  are  unconscious  of  surround- 
ing existence. 

Jesus  said,  "I  go  that  I  may  wake  him  out  of  sleep." 
"She  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth." 

If  man  is  simply  a  creation  of  animated  matter,  he 
dies  like  a  vegetable,  if  he  is  a  dual  creature,  soul  and 
body,  when  one  part  ceases  to  be,  the  other  is  not  self, 
but  if  man  is  a  spiritual  being  temporarily  inhabiting  and 
partially  controlling  a  creation  of  animation  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  animated  form  must  set  him  free  and  leave  the 
spiritual  being  intact. 

In  memory,  of  childhood  days,  we  apparently  go  back 
and  view  the  scenes  again,  but  if  we  really  did  go  back 
we  would  see  them  as  they  are  and  not  as  they  were,  so 
we  must  give  up  that  theory. 

The  most  prevalent  materialistic  doctrine  is  that  mem- 
ory is  an  impression  of  the  occurrences  stamped  on  the 
brain.  This  theory  when  turned  upon"  itself  plainly  estab- 
lishes the  invisible  soul  as  the  being  who  discerns  the 
impressions. 

The  most  modern  atheistic  theory  is  that  memory  is 
not  a  retained  impression,  but  rather  a  new  creation 
caused  by  immediate  external  stimuli.  See  Volume  1, 
page  649,  of  James'  Psychology. 

As  all  sane  expressions  are  based  on  foreknowledge, 
this  theory  assumes  that  the  cold  exterior  stimuli  at  the 
motor  discharge  instantly  re-create  the  experience  of 
our  entire  passed  life. 

This  fallacy,  together  with  the  brain  path  theory, 
proves  that  excess  of  possessions  coupled  with  classical 
education  creates  degeneracy. 

Under  the  guise  of  philosophy  and  science  these  in- 
structors are  not  only  attacking  the  church  but  the  vital 
spark  of  life. 


ARTHUR   RICHARDSON    AND    HIS    TWINS. 


LOOKING    BACK  337 

I  have  spent  years  in  the  principal  parts  of  the  world 
studying  the  people  and  their  modes  of  worship  and  I 
have  found  that  all  religions  are  one  and  beautiful  in  that 
they  teach  that  at  death  the  soul  will  be  free.  The  righ- 
teous and  wicked  will  be  separated  and  our  future  des- 
tination will  depend  upon  our  personal  motives  while 
living  in  the  body. 

Whether  our  soul  theory  be  a  myth,  mystery  or  truism, 
one  thing  is  obvious,  those  living  under  the  conviction 
that  their  apparent  secret  motives  are  in  some  way  ac- 
tually known,  and  will  stand  for  or  against  them  at  death, 
Avill  lead  more  pure  lives,  and  make  better  parents,  citi- 
zens and  neighbors  than  those  who  imbibe  materialism 
through  faithless  instructors  who  apparently  hope  there 
will  be  no  reckoning  day. 

The  immortal  soul  has  been  the  staff  of  hope  on  which 
frail  humanity  has  leaned  for  ages.  The  American 
Indian  stood  in  the  evening  gloom,  shading  his  brows 
with  his  feeble  hand  as  he  tried  to  look  over  the  cold 
waves  of  death  just  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  unexplored 
happy  hunting  ground.  John,  while  on  the  isle  of  Patmos 
invented  pearly  gates  and  golden  streets.  He  had  caught 
the  symbolic  mode  of  teaching  from  Jesus  in  that  ideas 
transformed  into  object  lessons  are  more  easily  compre- 
hended. 

Jesus  taught  the  soul  theory  from  start  to  finish.  "The 
kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  by  observation — the  king- 
dom of  God  is  within  you."  "Fear  not  them  which  kill 
the  body  but  rather  fear  Him  who  is  able  to  destroy  both 
body  and  soul  in  Hell."  "It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth, 
the  flesh  profiteth  nothing."  "The  words  I  speak  unto 
you  are  spirit  and  are  life."  Still  he  illustrated  his  ideas 
through  object  lessons. 


338  LOOKING    BACK 

Many  who  do  not  profess  actually  believe  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul.  When  unprofessing  parents  weep 
at  the  death  of  their  sweet  babe;  they  somehow  believe 
that  after  life's  dark  storms  are  all  passed,  they  will  find 
that  their  pet  has  been  in  the  care  of  loved  ones  who  have 
gone  before. 

Any  thoughtful  person  when  observing  their  hand 
must  discern  two  distinct  forces  in  existence,  spiritual  and 
material  or  visible  and  invisible.  And  that  the  invisible  is 
the  force  which  knows  and  drives  the  material.  Thus,  as 
the  exterior  stimuli  through  the  ear  or  other  senses 
awaken  the  reason,  so  the  invisible  through  the  dififerent 
functions  of  the  brain  emit  their  conclusion,  based  on 
world  experience  and  scrutinized  by  the  spirit,  or  a  God- 
given  power  we  call  reason,  which  is  often  swayed  by 
sly  will  power. 

The  aged  are  continually  calling  up  minor  incidents  of 
forty  years  ago,  while  yesterday's  events  evade  recall. 
Why  is  this  ? 

It  is  not  that  the  obscurity  of  vision,  confusion  of  re- 
sults and  uncertainty  of  doubt  which  befogs  life  today 
darkened  the  path  in  the  same  way  fifty  years  ago,  but 
time  has  removed  the  obscurity  and  the  original  appears, 
Could  we  live  another  fifty  years,  might  not  the  cloud 
which  now  befogs  our  path  have  vanished  and  we  again 
remember  the  glance  of  recognition  of  yesterday,  which 
now  seems  hard  to  recall. 

No  one  contends  but  that  our  journey  of  life  is  tra- 
veled in  utter  darkness.  No  recall  of  the  past,  no  dis- 
cernment of  the  future.  If  then  one  unimportant  act  or 
thought  of  the  long  ago  did  record  itself,  may  not  all  have 
done  the  same,  and  may  it  not  be  that  when  the  veil  of 
obscurity  is  drawn  aside,  all  the  minute  details  of  life  will 


OUR  OAK   PARK   HOME — MRS.   RICHARDSON,   OUR   DOG   JOE,  AND 
FAMILY   GROUP. 


LOOKING    BACK  339 

blend  the  awakened  past  with  the  present,  and  we  dis- 
cover that  our  birth  was  not  a  beginning  but  rather  a  for- 
getting, and  death  the  welcome  morning  call. 

I  stood  with  the  mother  of  the  James  boys,  beside  the 
grave  of  Jesse,  in  her  door  yard,  when  she  told  how  that 
once  when  Jesse  thought  he  was  dying  he  took  his  watch 
charm  and  handed  it  to  a  comrade,  saying,  "Take  this  to 
sister  Anna  and  tell  her  to  pray  that  we  meet  in  Heaven." 
That  mother's  tears  did  not  seem  to  me  like  crocodile 
tears.  In  fact  there  is  something  about  the  deadly  bandit 
which  we  sometimes  admire,  but  if  there  is  anything  fas- 
cinating about  Harvard  James  and  his  sympathizers  who 
sneak  in  under  the  cloak  of  morality  to  influence  the 
young  to  turn  against  the  great  thinking  spiritual  world, 
I,  for  one,  cannot  see  it. 

I  may  be  too  blunt  and  plain  in  my  remarks  concern- 
ing soulless  advocates  but  I  feel  that  these  teachers  are 
not  only  swinging  to  the  other  extreme  from  religion,  but 
through  selfishness  or  ignorance  they  are  creating  unrest 
and  war. 

Most  of  our  national  leaders  have  been  drilled  in  these 
theories  and  while  many  are  too  wise  to  accept  them  there 
are  those  who  accept  what  they  are  taught  just  as  a  calf 
takes  milk  from  the  cow. 

These  thoughtless  learned  often  become  political  lead- 
ers. Especially  where  finances  are  concerned,  for  with 
this  no  sotil  theory  in  view,  their  only  object  in  life  can 
be  aggrandizement  and  luxury  tinctured  with  animal 
passion. 


EVENING  OF  MY  LIFE  DAY 

Years  have  passed  since  my  cycling  days  and  ye'c  I 
am  strong  and  athletic. 

My  daughter  Minnie  and  her  husband,  Dr.  B.  H. 
Chamberlain,  with  their  only  boy  Hiland,  have  lately  sold 
their  home  on  Washington  boulevard  and  are  not  yet 
settled  again. 

Arthur  and  Jessie,  with  three  children,  Marvin  and 
die  twins,  Jean  and  Willard,  have  an  elegant  home  on 
Keystone  avenue,  Rivert  Forest.  He  owns  the  Inland 
vVhitelead  Co.,  which  is  a  large  concern. 

Alberta  and  her  husband,  George  Carlson,  with  their 
three  bright  girls,  Mary,  Mildred  and  Frances,  live  in 
their  comfortable  home  near  me  in  Oak  Park.  George 
is  captain  of  our  fire  department. 

Thus  I  have  my  children  and  grandchildren  around 
me,  all  in  good  health  and  standing  in  the  community. 

I  am  still  conducting  my  manufacture  of  copper  and 
tinware  on  my  property,  corner  Washington  boulevard 
and  Curtis  street.  My  75  years  does  not  seem  to  trouble 
me,  for  I  feel  as  well  as  I  did  fifty  years  ago. 

Mary  Hoyt,  my  first  wife,  long  since  entered  the 
shadows  where  faults  and  failings  grow  dim,  while  vir- 
tues and  charms  blend  the  past,  present  and  future  into 
one  eternal  morning  of  gladness. 

In  1902,  I  married  Mrs.  Williamson,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Mary  Prickett,  of  Goshen,  Ind.  Our  days 
together  have  been  continued  sunshine  and  joy.  Even- 
ings when  I  return  home  each  tells  of  the  day's  joys, 
troubles  and  ludicrous  incidents. 
340 


LOOKING    BACK  341 

My  Mary  not  only  runs  the  home,  buying,  paying, 
attending  to  her  church  trotting  and  downtown  shop- 
ping, but  she  is  interested  in  my  ups  and  downs  at  the 
factory.  Inquires  all  about  Dorfman,  my  factory  super- 
intendent; Bilthouse,  my  mechanical  engineer,  and  car- 
ries in  mind  my  business  associates,  knows  their  names 
and  who  they  represent. 

To  me,  a  man  who  expects  his  wife  to  stay  in  her 
place,  never  deserving  of  praise,  misses  much  he  might 
enjoy  if  he  knew  enough  to  appreciate  her  worth.  Many 
a  man's  success  in  life  is  owing  to  the  genius  of  his  wife, 
a  fact  which  neither  seems  to  understand. 

Our  home,  northwest  corner  East  and  Chicago  ave- 
nue. Oak  Park,  we  built  in  1909  and  1910.  The  house 
is  spacious  and  elegant,  but  the  gem  of  Fair  Oaks  sub- 
division is  our  large  yard. 

Of  the  six  stately  burr  oaks,  known  to  be  hundreds 
of  years  old,  one  stands  near  our  sleeping  room  window, 
on  which  is  the  house  or  home  of  a  mother  squirrel,  who 
when  she  has  babies  allows  no  other  squirrel  to  even 
climb  the  tree.  Each  day  she  comes  down  to  the  kitchen 
for  dinner,  often  sitting  on  Mrs.  Richardson's  shoulder 
while  eating  and  does  not  even  care  if  her  tail  does  brush 
the  ladies'  eyes. 

There  are  about  forty  other  large  trees  in  the  yard 
besides,  on  either  side  of  the  bridge,  a  dense  thicket  of 
thorn  and  crab  apple  trees.  Here  the  wrens  and  robins 
raise  their  broods  in  harmony  with  the  saucy  sparrows 
who  live  with  us  all  the  year,  eat  that  which  would  be 
thrown  away,  and  never  disturb  other  birds'  nests.  They 
all  bathe  in  the  same  pool  and  actually  seem  to  appre- 
ciate our  little  dog  Joe,  who  assumes  great  responsibility 
in  keeping  the  cats  from  catching  the  young  birds  and 
the  boys  from  climbing  over  our  high  iron  fence. 


FIFTY-FOUR  MILES'  HIKE 

The  latest  excitement  in  our  neighborhood  has  been 
the  exploit  of  myself  and  my  son  Arthur,  with  several 
other  aspirants,  attempting  without  training,  to  walk  to 
Channel  Lake,  fifty-four  miles,  in  one  day. 

Our  plan  was  for  the  men  to  leave  Oak  Park  at 
sundown  and  walk  in  the  dark  thirty  miles,  and  the 
ladies  leave  home,  in  automobile,  at  3  :30  in  the  morning, 
then  all  take  breakfast  together  at  Libertyville,  from 
where  the  ladies  would  accompany  the  men  on  the  last 
twenty-four  miles. 

The  evening  before  the  start  we  had  a  laughable 
wrangle  as  to  who,  of  the  men,  could  or  could  not  pull 
through  to  Libertyville,  as  the  heavy  fall  rains  had  so 
impaired  the  roads  that  there  would  be  much  high  step- 
ping and  low  dipping  as  we  stumbled  along  in  the  dark. 
Also,  we  knew  that  the  journey  from  Libertyville  to 
Antioch,  being  over  clay  hills,  would  be  either  slip-slop 
or  hard  and  sharp  for  the  feet  of  the  ladies,  but  every- 
body seemed  anxious  to  make  a  record. 

Jessie,  Arthur's  wife,  and  Mrs.  Buhler  felt  dubious 
about  the  outcome  of  the  ladies'  walk,  but  my  wife  de- 
clared she  would  like  to  see  the  man  who  had  walked 
thirty  miles  in  the  night  that  she  could  not  accompany 
through  the   following  day. 

Of  the  very  many  aspirants  all  found  plausible  ex- 
cuses except  the  two  Richardsons  and  their  wives,  Eu- 
gene Buhler,  and  Paul  Highland  and  their  wives,  Albert 
Hauter,  Edd  Hauter  and  Bruce  Tate. 
342 


FANNIE    PETERSON. 


LOOKING    BACK  343 

Accordingly,  as  the  autumn  sun  was  casting  its  last 
gleam  through  the  old  oaks  we  seven  men  grouped  for  a 
picture,  by  a  neighbor  lady,  who  declared  it  would  be 
nice  for  the  survivors,  if  any,  to  look  at  after  they  had 
become  weaker  and  wiser. 

After  kissing  all  the  kissable  ladies  and  promising  to 
take  it  easy,  we,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  lit  out  at  a  pace 
that  would  have  done  justice  to  trained  pedestrians. 

In  River  Forest  we  turned  north  on  Keystone  avenue 
and  then  on  to  the  country  road,  when  we  broke  step 
and  strung  out,  each  man  attending  to  his  own  feet. 

It  was  understood  that  we  stop  for  supper  at  Des- 
plaines,  but  when  we  arrived  at  Kolze,  seven  miles  out, 
the  two  Hauters,  Highland  and  Tate  ordered  ham  and 
eggs,  while  Buhler,  Arthur  and  myself  pegged  on  fast, 
because  the  others  had  declared  they  would  catch  us 
before  we  reached  Desplaines,  but  they  did  not. 

At  Desplaines,  thirteen  miles  out,  we  found  the  sum- 
mer restaurant  closed,  but  in  a  sort  of  hotel  annex  we 
found  a  damsel  of  about  12  years  ready  to  prepare  for 
us  ham,  eggs  and  coffee. 

She  did  step  around  like  a  regular  woman,  for  which 
we  recompensed  her  liberally,  for  she  was  exceptionally 
quaint  and  interesting  for  a  child. 

While  we  were  eating,  the  rear  guard  arrived,  when 
Albert  and  Paul  came  in,  saying  Bruce  and  Edd  were 
waiting  outside. 

When  we  were  ready  to  start  Edd  and  Bruce  were  no- 
where to  be  found.  We  inquired,  called  and  whistled, 
but  no  response,  so  concluded  they  had  either  become 
discouraged  and  taken  the  train  for  Chicago  or  gone  on 
ahead  to  fool  us,  so  we  five  struck  out  for  Wheeling. 

At  every  house  the  dogs  came  out  barking,  which  set 


344  LOOKING    BACK 

the  dogs  at  the  next  house  agoing,  who,  together  with 
the  dogs  at  the  last  house,  which  had  not  yet  stopped 
barking,  gave  us  real  dog  encouragement. 

To  keep  up  our  spirits  we  accompanied  the  dogs  by 
striking  up  "Old  Black  Joe."  Really  we  lacked  only  a 
bagpipe  to  have  made  the  farmers  think  Gabriel  was  at 
hand  calling  the  elect  from  their  graves. 

At  every  bend  in  the  old  Desplaines  River  the  water 
babbled  loudly,  seeming  to  join  in  our  merriment,  as  we 
jested,  told  stories  and  laughed  through  the  joyous  hours 
of  our  moonlight  escapade  along  the  winding  stream. 

At  Wheeling,  twenty-two  miles  out,  Buhler  began 
to  realize  he  ought  not  to  have  attempted  so  strenuous 
an  effort,  but  said  he  would  stick  it  out  forty  miles,  to 
Gray's  Lake,  after  which  we  could  continue  our  foolish- 
ness if  we  did  not  know  enough  to  get  in  and  ride. 

Tate  and  Ed  Hauter  put  in  their  appearance  at  Lib- 
ertyville,  just  before  the  ladies  arrived,  and  to  prove  they 
had  actually  walked  all  the  way,  exhibited  blisters  on 
their  heels. 

The  ladies  teased  us  and  seemed  greatly  amused  while 
arousing  us  for  breakfast,  but  soon  we  were  all  out  in 
the  glorious  dawn  while  the  sun  was  yet  lingering  beyond 
old  Lake  Michigan. 

Our  way  was  over  the  hills  which  overlook. the  head 
waters  of  the  sleepy  Desplaines.  Touched  with  a  glim- 
mer of  pathos  at  the  golden  dawn,  Arthur  and  I  stopped 
to  listen  to  my  wife's  sentimental  refrain: 

"Not  so  long  ago  the  red  men  with  their  squaws  and 
pappooses  gathered  here,  when  the  leaves  were  falling, 
to  celebrate  their  autumn  powwow,  feasting  on  wild  rice, 
berries  and  venison,  never  dreaming  that  a  pale-faced 
foe  lurked  on  an  unknown  shore  who  would  soon  appear 


LOOKING    BACK  345 

to  drive  them  far  away  from  their  own  hunting  ground, 
never  more  to  return  to  join  in  the  chase  or  the  young 
braves  to  woo  the  sun-burned  Indian  maids." 

This  httle  day  dream  of  long  ago  seemed  to  awaken 
serious  thought,  into  which  Arthur  took  part  thus : 

"Isn't  this  lovely  away  from  the  great  city  of  catch 
as  catch  can — to  enjoy  the  inspiration  of  these  quiet 
hills  and  valleys?  I  wonder  if  this  morning  may  not  be 
just  a  glimmer  of  worlds  in  the  far  away  Eternity  more 
beautiful,  than  ours.  Do  you  think,  father,  there  are 
other  worlds  like  ours?" 

"Not  exactly  like  ours,  my  boy,  there  are  no  two 
cherries  on  the  tree  just  alike,  still  like  folks  they  are 
all  similar.  Eternity  is  the  abode  of  millions  of  worlds — 
see,  there,  our  party  are  climbing  the  next  hill ;  no  more 
monologues  here,  we  must  overtake  them." 

From  Gray's  Lake,  when  our  party  of  eleven  had 
dwindled  to  five,  Arthur,  Hauter  and  Highland  pegged 
steadily  on,  while  Mary  and  I  lagged  to  enjoy  the  beauti- 
ful northern  hilly  country. 

We  really  did  enjoy  our  lark,  as  Mary  called  it.  She 
observed  every  interesting  thing.  Listened  to  the  bark- 
ing of  the  squirrels,  songs  of  the  birds  and  strayed  into 
the  woods  for  pretty  autumn  leaves  and  berries  until  her 
arms  were  full. 

Our  daughter  Vida,  at  Carroll  College,  who  knew  of 
our  contemplated  walk,  telephoned  to  Chicago  and  on 
learning  we  had  actually  started  took  the  train  to  Anti- 
och  and  came  down  the  road  to  surprise  us. 

We  were  loafing  along  when  our  Weiders  (Vida), 
whom  we  had  not  seen  in  eight  weeks,  sprang  from  a 
concealment  and  grabbed  us. 

Surely  I  would  not  have  been  much  more  surprised 


346  LOOKING    BACK 

if  one  of  the  fair  sex  from  the  planet  Mars  had  accosted 
us. 

After  the  shower  of  kisses  Mary  and  I  forgot  our 
sore  toes,  and,  with  her,  hurried  on,  visiting  all  the  way 
until  we  neared  our  destination,  when  in  the  woods,  a 
flood  of  red  bitter-sweet  berries  attracted  their  attention 
and,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do  or  say,  they  left  the  road 
and  began  browsing  again. 

Vida's  animation  reached  serene  heights,  when  from 
a  perch  on  a  fallen  tree  she  cried,  "Oh,  Papa,  see  how 
I  can  climb.  Come  up  here  and  see  the  rippling  wave 
of  old  Fox  Lake  dance  in  the  blushing  rays  of  the  even- 
ing sun.     Oh,  isn't  it  a  pity  that  girls  cannot  fly." 

When  we  arrived  at  the  home  of  my  brother,  G.  M, 
Richardson,  we  found  Arthur,  Hauter  and  Highland, 
with  many  friends,  awaiting  us,  all  pleased  to  learn  that 
the  Richardsons  were  far  from  being  played  out. 

After  dinner,  and  Amanda  (my  brother's  wife)  had 
taken  Mary  and  me  to  the  kitchen  and  exhibited  their 
24-pound  turkey  for  dinner  next  day,  we  gathered  in  the 
big  living  room,  when  even  those  who  were  tired  were 
able  to  tease  and  tell  stories  which  had  the  semblance  of 
truth. 

It  was  not  intended  for  a  Richardson  reunion,  still 
there  were  Richardsons  enough  to  render  the  occasion 
one  of  merriment  and  joy. 

Besides  mates  and  friends,  the  following  Richardsons 
were  present. 

My  brother  Gordon. 
His  son  Perin. 
His  son  Merrick. 
His  son  Lawrence. 
His  son  George. 


BARBARA   BEAVER. 


LOOKING    BACK  347 

His  daughter  Gertie. 

His  daughter  Ehiia.  •    ■ 

Myself — Merrick  Abiier. 

My  son — Merrick  Arthur. 

And — Vida. 
We  had  a  high  old  time,  for  the  Richardsons  when 
teasing  are  said  to  be  somewhat  given  to  exaggeration, 
so  one  can  easily  understand  that  when  they  cut  loose 
no  one  felt  sleepy. 


BACK  HOME 

The  following  evening  a  few  of  our  immediate 
friends  gathered  to  congratulate  us,  among  whom  were 
two  of  Vida's  college  chums,  (Bob)  Barbary  Beaver  and 
(Peter)  Fannie  Peterson,  who  with  our  Welders  made 
an  interesting  trio  of  entertainers. 

Really,  when  Bob  was  acting  "When  Angelina  John- 
son Came  Swinging  Down  the  Line,"  one  could  see  the 
pretty  colored  girl,  right  from  the  cotton  fields,  shaking 
her  heels  to  the  tune  of  the  "Old  Virginia  Reel." 

Peter  singing  "Maggie,  Maggie,  the  Cows  Are  in  the 
Clover,"  was  enough  to  make  the  most  sedate  forget 
themselves,  especially  the  last  verse,  where  Maggie  had 
gone  to  the  county  fair  and  was  up  in  a  balloon  spooning 
with  her  lover,  when  away  in  the  distance  from  the 
kitchen  door  she  faintly  heard  that  old  familiar  scream, 
"Maggie,  Maggie"— 

The  cows  are  in  the  clover. 

They've  trampled  there  since  morn. 

Go  and  drive  them,  Maggie, 
To  the  old  red  barn. 

Thus  ended  our  glad,  eccentric  lark  to  Channel  Lake, 
but  our  hikes  still  continue.  Since  our  Channel  Lake  epi- 
sode, our  neighbor,  Mrs.  Wm.  F.  Kraft,  together  with 
Mrs,  Richardson  and  myself,  walked  in  one  day  to  Elgin, 
thirty  miles,  and  really  these  two  interesting  dames  did 
give  me  a  right  lively  chase. 
348 


LOOKING    BACK  349 

I  close  this  book  with  regret  that  I  am  unable,  throtfgh 
language,  to  express  my  conviction  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  of  both  man  and  beast.  Consummated  life 
on  earth  consists  of  coming  from  and  returning  to ; 
creation,  action  and  dissolution  of  the  body  do  not  account 
for  the  personal,  invisible  cause  of  action.  You,  dear 
reader,  and  myself  are  now  cloaked  in  garments  of  dust. 
When  this  mantle  is  laid  aside  we  shall  know  each  other. 
We  shall  remember  more  distinctly ;  see  more  clearly 
love  more  dearly ;  enjoy  more  purely  and  wonder  tha 
our  faith  while  on  earth  was  so  weak. 

Merrick  Abner  Richardson. 


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